These are the first photos I took from my new apartment. This is the place I had phoned about that wouldn't be available to see until Monday. From the first moment I saw it, I knew it was right. Especially after
what I'd seen over the weekend, there was really no question. The manager was nice, the place was clean. It had space, the price was right, the views were incredible, it had a stove and refrigerator. It seemed like a miracle. If I could have changed something, I would have opted for hardwood floors and acceptance of pets. But that seemed like a small sacrifice at the moment. I could live with the blue shag. This was home. Kate and I had moved into the Lamplighter Motel for our third night in Astoria to save some money. It was simple and basic and there was soup served in the lobby. We'd tried a motel up the street, but when the proprietor handed us a can of Raid saying the roach infestation (or was it ants?) wasn't that bad, we moved along. Again, I'm telling you this is not the slums. It's just - I hate to say it, but it's just Astoria. Erby had wanted to delay my move for another day so the just-cleaned carpets could dry, but I prevailed and pushed up moving day. Erby's son Alex and a friend helped Kate move the whole truck-load of stuff down four flights of stairs and did it all with a smile for the small sum I could pay them. It was quite a welcome. I was exhausted and stressed, and did what I could, which was mainly tell them where to put things and sort out what came in the door. The apartment was on Bond Street hill, and I felt I had the best of all worlds. Shielded by the hillside, my apartment would stay cool in summer, and yet, even on the bottom floor I had a treetop view over the Columbia River. It felt like heaven.
This is the view out my living room window - the Astoria-Megler bridge and its four mile span over to Washington.
These are the first photos I took from my new apartment. This is the place I had phoned about that wouldn't be available to see until Monday. From the first moment I saw it, I knew it was right. Especially after what I'd seen over the weekend, there was really no question. The manager was nice, the place was clean. It had space, the price was right, the views were incredible, it had a stove and refrigerator. It seemed like a miracle. If I could have changed something, I would have opted for hardwood floors and acceptance of pets. But that seemed like a small sacrifice at the moment. I could live with the blue shag. This was home. Kate and I had moved into the Lamplighter Motel for our third night in Astoria to save some money. It was simple and basic and there was soup served in the lobby. We'd tried a motel up the street, but when the proprietor handed us a can of Raid saying the roach infestation (or was it ants?) wasn't that bad, we moved along. Again, I'm telling you this is not the slums. It's just - I hate to say it, but it's just Astoria. Erby had wanted to delay my move for another day so the just-cleaned carpets could dry, but I prevailed and pushed up moving day. Erby's son Alex and a friend helped Kate move the whole truck-load of stuff down four flights of stairs and did it all with a smile for the small sum I could pay them. It was quite a welcome. I was exhausted and stressed, and did what I could, which was mainly tell them where to put things and sort out what came in the door. The apartment was on Bond Street hill, and I felt I had the best of all worlds. Shielded by the hillside, my apartment would stay cool in summer, and yet, even on the bottom floor I had a treetop view over the Columbia River. It felt like heaven.
This is the view out my living room window - the Astoria-Megler bridge and its four mile span over to Washington.
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