There was an infestation of squirrels in the home. Teeth marks still scarred the built-ins.
A few days after I sent the application he "approved" me and asked me to wire $2700 -- security deposit and first month's rent -- to his California bank account before I could receive the keys in the mail. He also drew up and signed a simple lease agreement for me to sign and return, but it lacked important details: i.e., it had the street address of the condo, but not the specific unit
If you live in New York, you've probably seen the subway ads for AirBnb. They display hosts who have made serious money through the tech company—the king of the "sharing economy." AirBnb has recently won significant legal battle by proving its own legality. It was ruled that AirBnb hosts who live in the apartment or house they are renting out are within the boundaries of the law. Well, that’s us. We’re legal. And yet, if I’m honest with myself, AirBnb has basically ruined my life. And it can ruin yours, too.
This week, I saw a sign listing apartments for rent and the unit prices, and I realized that I could actually afford to live there.
Turns out you can't watch any of the Star Wars movies online -- at least not until 2016, when Disney's new deal with Netflix kicks in.
One Sunday evening, my elder child called to me from the shower, with apparent alarm, "Dad! It’s raining in here!" Since this was a ten-year-old and ten-year-olds are prone to goofy, physical humor, I mostly expected to find him in the shower under an umbrella, but lo and behold, the water was not running, he was toweling off, and there was a distinct sound of light rain on a tin roof coming from the bathroom ceiling.
"You have six months to find your own place," my godmother, Kimmie, says.
We lived in a brownstone off of Eight Mile in a decidedly not dangerous and predominantly gay area. To the west of us, houses began to fall in on themselves and the night became progressively darker. The streetlights were out.
Where have you lived, Marissa Barker?