| | Storage
It was a dark and stormy night, with a slight chance of snow flurries towards morning. This was hardly abnormal, as it was the middle of February in New York City. Temperatures had been a bit higher of late, but not so high as to confuse us of the season. The season was "Fall/Winter 2004/5," and no one was wearing Burberry anymore.
I paced back and forth in my apartment, restless from the weather, the lack of focus in my life, and some little white pills I'd found at the bottom of the medicine cabinet. Probably just ephedra. The dog could sense my anxiety, he too was pacing, following my every move. I couldn't concentrate enough to read a book, or watch a commercial even, and my nails were already chomped down to nubs. I began, like everyone does at this point, to clean.
Not constructive cleaning, definately not constructive, the kind of cleaning where you take everything out of its assigned spot and spend an hour trying get 7 layers of ancient paint off of the bottom side of a closet rod. When you're finished, if you finish, you're too exhausted to put anything away. And besides, actually putting anything in the closet would hide your newly buffed, if slightly misshapen, closet rod.
I removed all of my clothing from the closet, but since restless insomnia is a regular thing in my life, I already had a newly buffed, if slightly misshapen, closet rod. I combed the walls and floor searching for some stain I could tackle, dust to collect, splinter to sand, anything to do. There was nothing. And, most annoyingly, there was a creak in my hallway.
Aha! A creak. Something that needed addressing. I trudged up down, trying to determine the exact location of the noise. It was the type of thing you'd think I would have noticed in one of my previous manic episodes. This particular bit of floor had been patched, and the wood color was slightly off.
The patch had not been done well, probably some management company quick job, awarded to the lowest bidder whose shoddy workmanship had been deemed somebody else's problem. Yeah, mine. The reason for the creak was warping. I would have to replace the whole section. Hooray, a project. What time did Home Depot close? No matter. I could finish in the morning, I'd still be awake.
I pulled out a screwdriver and wedged it beneath the board. With surprising ease, and a little olive oil, it came loose. There was a space underneath. Quite a large space. I looked at the size of the patch, it was nearly 6 feet long and about three feet wide. This was perfect. I could remove the entire patch and clean underneath. That could take hours. I set to work immediately. A little work with a hammer and screw driver and I had the entire floor section up. Inside was a notty pine box of familiar shape.
Luckily it was trash day, so I took that downstairs and left it on the curb. Some industrial strength cleaners, and a bit of lumber later, and voila, I now have extra storage beneath the floor boards. For those of you who don't live in New York, you won't realize what a triumph this is. I keep everything in there. |
