I bought a condo last year. I’ve been set on moving out since I was 19 so I was really stoked. I wanted to rent an apartment but my parents were all, “Italian people don’t rent.” They don’t? That can’t possibly be right. Anyway, I bought my place before it was built; that way, I got it for cheap (I don’t think I could get a closet in NYC for the price I paid), I got to customize how I wanted it to look and I had time to save extra cash. I actually saved over $20,000, which is pretty epic for me. Speaking of epic things, I used words like “mortgage”, “down payment” and “backsplash” for the first time. Those are adult words! But it’s cool; that’s just stuff you say when you’re a grown up.
I officially moved in a week ago. After all these years of anticipation, I finally did it. And so far, it’s been fun. I mean, it’s not exhilarating – I don’t have cable or internet yet – but it’s fun. I ride Bixi bikes. I hang out in my underwear every day. I sit around. I drink a lot of beer. I eat the outer chocolaty layer of my Swiss Rolls, then open up the cake part, then lick off the cream, then eat the cake. I fart a lot. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m living the dream…
But there’s a problem. I can only live the dream during the day. I’m scared shitless at night. I was fine for the first couple of nights, but then someone knocked on my bedroom window at 4 o’clock in the morning. Who does that? I’m on the bottom floor (which is a nice way of saying I’m in the fucking basement) so I feel like this has the potential to happen often. Now when I go to sleep, I subconsciously force myself to wake up every hour to make sure I’m alive. There is a knife and an extremely bright flashlight in my night table; I don’t think I could ever stab someone but I could definitely try to blind them. I’m thinking of getting a gun. Again, I probably won’t ever use it (except at the shooting range because I’m kind of a bad ass) but I think it’ll be good to have. And I could call it my ‘piece’, you know.
I hate that I’m so paranoid. Since I’ve moved, I’ve seen a shirtless man smoking crack, three shirtless men with mental health problems, and 15 to 20 shirtless men drinking 40s. Does no one work or wear shirts in this neighborhood? I also found a syringe on the ground and saw a cyclist get hit by a car. Oh, and I read that a crazy guy randomly stabbed three people, including a 74 year old man, at a cafe a short walk from my place. Oddly, none of this scared me. It’s really the knocking on my window that freaked me out. You have no idea how terrified I was. I was covered in sweat (even moreso than usual). I somehow brought myself to look outside but it was too dark to see anything. My friend Vince tried to calm me down by saying it was a ghost but that made it worse.
How can I stop worrying at night? Will I be a scaredy cat forever?