Takes about forty seconds to come through. Don't give up on it. The pipes make a sound like they're thinking it over and then it arrives all at once, too hot. Let it settle.
the window in the kitchen
Sticks in August. The wood swells. A butter knife works but you have to be patient with it — the frame is old and it's doing its best. In winter it lets in a draft from the top left corner. I put a rolled towel there. You can do whatever you want.
the light in the afternoon
Around 3:40 in September the sun comes through the west window and hits the back wall. I don't know why I'm telling you this. You'll find it yourself. But I wanted you to know someone else noticed.
the neighbor
Mrs. Cárdenas on the left. She'll bring you something in a dish during your first week. Return the dish. She doesn't care when — she says she does, but she doesn't. She cares that you return it.
the sound at night
Around 2 or 3 AM, something in the walls. Not mice — I had someone check. It's the building settling, or the heat expanding, or something I never figured out. It bothered me for the first month. Then it became the sound of the place being a place. You'll get there or you won't.
the stain on the ceiling
Above the bedroom door. It's from before me. I could have painted over it but I didn't. It looks like a country that doesn't exist. You can paint over it. It won't mind. I just wanted you to know it was there on purpose — the leaving it, not the stain.
the grocery store
The one on Maple has better produce but the one on 7th has a man named David who will remember your name after two visits. Go to the one on 7th.
what I left in the closet
A box of lightbulbs (the kitchen takes the odd size, E17, and they're hard to find). A screwdriver with a blue handle that fits the bathroom cabinet hinges perfectly. A doorstop — you'll need it in summer when the draft is good enough to leave everything open. These are for you.
the thing I couldn't fix
The second stair from the top creaks no matter what you do. I tried everything. Shims, screws, glue. It creaks. At some point I started stepping on it on purpose just to hear it. I think the house wanted one voice it didn't have to share.
the most important thing
The place is good. Not perfect — good. It will take you about three weeks to feel like you live here and about three months to feel like it's yours. That's not slow. That's the right speed. Be patient with it the way you'd be patient with someone who's been hurt before. It gives back more than it takes. I'm not sure that's true of me but it's true of the apartment.