Migration….movement from one part of something to another. There is a loft culture that is going through its own migration. We are living in our space for almost five years and when we first moved in there appeared to be quite a few rules, the least of which was that you couldn’t have a doormat. I take comfort in some rules and imagine that they are rooted in some sense of order. I like order. We never had a doormat. Still don’t. The doormat rule has been broken. Initially I felt incensed. Then I got a grip and realized I could not be in charge of keeping the rules. I felt relief. I still didn’t get a doormat. The doormat broken rule was followed by the no wreath broken rule. I waffled. This year there have been a few new things that people are doing to show their independent thinking. Doormats begot wreaths which begot Halloween decorations. I caved. I actually bought some stickers and afixed them to the door. They will be removed on November 1st since that is my rule.
There is a common area near our mailboxes. We have been here long enough to be able to say “I remember when we first moved in and NO ONE was allowed to put up signs without permission of the management”. Now there are a lot of signs. Things for sale, events to attend, dog walking availabilities and personalized caricature art is for sale. The times they are a changing. A few years ago, folks would put out things they no longer wanted on the table near the mailboxes. It was convenient and everything was up for grabs. It was like an indoor yard sale but the items were all free. The amount of stuff grew to include books, glassware, Christmas decorations, food and then clothing. At first it seemed rather strange to me and then I embraced it. I didn’t remember any rules that dictated whether this was okay or not okay. I thought to myself, this is okay. This is community. I joined in. It was the ultimate in recycling and the very interesting phenomena was that if you put something out on the table which is on floor two, and went upstairs and came back in a few minutes, it was gone. Oddly enough, despite having 250 apartments, you can go days without seeing another soul. The halls look like “The Shining”.
The newest iteration is now the yard sale has migrated to the areas next to the elevators on each floor. It is like a little “one man’s junk” sale steps away from the apartments. Last week there were several items of interest. It was about 6:50 in the morning and I was heading to work and there was an old trunk, next to a basketful of shoes and a cat scratching tower, several books, and some pieces of art(?). I didn’t have time to take a good look at the trunk. I rode the elevator to the garage, got in the car. and called my FHB immediately. I gave him an alert to go down the hall and secure the trunk. My thought was even if we don’t need it, we could figure out something clever to do with it. Caveat…there is NOTHING that we need. He called me back. It was gone. This was like a mystery, never to be solved. I was actually sad for a moment. It passed. It took a few days for the rest of the items to find new homes. I am often tempted to take the stairs and peruse what’s available on the fifth floor or maybe on the third floor. I had a Nancy Drew moment and surmised that at the end of the month, people move and discard their belongings. I may put this in my phone’s calendar. I know what you are thinking…I need a life.
Happy Halloween. May the treats be bountiful and the tricks few.