After my vacation ended, I decided that I no longer liked sharing an apartment with someone. Ped was a nice guy, but I really needed my own space. I decided to see what I could find. While scanning the classifieds, I found a studio for $310 a month. I figured I could swing that amount. The unit was part of what used to be one big house. The owner had converted it into three separate apartments with an "in-law" unit in the back that made a fourth residence.
The studio was a 10' x 10' living room, probably about one-third the size of my studio in Denver. (In the photo above, it's the door next to the light pole.) It also had a small kitchen and bathroom, which both took up the other half of the apartment. In fact, the bathroom was so small that when I sat on the toilet, my head was in the sink. It had only a shower stall. I really wanted to move out, so I didn't get picky about it. At the very least, I didn't have to share the bathroom.
The apartments were independently owned by an older gentleman and his wife. They had a couple of other apartments around town. One of the things he told me was that no one else could live there with me. The apartment was too small for two people. He'd had a problem with a couple of guys who tried to live there and all they did was fight. I told him that my friend Chud was going to come by and spend a couple of nights while he went to the Comic-Con, but that was it. He didn't have a problem with the occasional visitor.
I made my move on August 1st, 1993. I was able to get everything from the old apartment over in just a couple of trips. After this time, I met some of the other residents. In the main front unit were a brother and sister. I met the brother on several occasions, but I never met the sister. Eventually, she moved out and he got a female roommate. I did get to meet her. The brother knew the person in the "in-law" unit from high school. He had gone to law school and was trying to pass the bar. I know he failed the first time and was hoping to take the exam again soon. I never met the person who lived in the upper unit in the back.
Like my other apartments, there were a couple of quirky things about it. The first was that there was the beginning of a stairway in my closet. I always wondered if the person in the upstairs unit had a stairway that led down to nowhere. Also, there was a secret compartment in the bathroom. If you pulled on the toilet paper holder, there was a little room just small enough for one person to hide in the event the cops tried to knocked down the door.
The apartment was just a few doors down from an ARCO AM/PM. Across El Cajon Blvd., there was a McDonald's. There were other fast-food restaurants within walking distance. The whole time I lived there, I don't think I ever turned on the oven or made a single meal for myself. (Yeah, I know. That turned out to be wasteful.) I only ever kept Gatorade in the refrigerator.
Also, during this time, I didn't have a TV set. I spent a lot of my time composing music. I turned out to be very productive during this period. (But I was still going to see a lot of movies.) I also only ever had four people come over to the apartment.
At the beginning of December, I had a major change in my life that would require me to find a larger apartment. I was fortunate that the owner didn't force me to comply with providing him with a 30-day notice after he found out about my situation. I officially moved out on December 31st. I was able to get most of my deposit back. The only thing he charged me for was a stain on the carpet. But that happened because I had a soap bubble blower and I spilled some of it on the floor. I would get plenty of suds when I tried to scrub it, but I couldn't get the stain completely out.
Even though I was only there five months, it was still not the shortest amount of time I would spend in an apartment. I'll go into greater detail about what happened in future posts.
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