The Downside of City Living

While I have extolled the many virtues of city dwelling, the truth is there are some real downsides. Tonight was a classic case in point.

As you may have noted, I have only condiments in my home in which to dine upon. In truth, I feel guilty ordering take out food for one because it does make for a thankless trip for a deliveryman to hand me a container of eggs or some spring rolls. Without my usual singleton feast supplies of soup or tunafish or eggs or cereal or microwave popcorn, I'm kinda screwed. I needed groceries.

Hollaback Girl (my commute co-pilot) agreed to stop at a shopping center in Darien called "The Good Wives Shopping Center." We outsiders call it "The Stepford Wives Shopping Center" for obvious reasons. The day ran long at work and before I knew it, evening was nigh. We headed to the shopping center before our long commute home. Armed with our carts, we trolled the store aisles at quick time speed, filling our carts with necessities: more Clorox, cat food, multiple proteins (my favorite food group: turkey, fish. soy patties, chicken, eggs and bacon), fruit, veg, microwave popcorn, pomegranate flavored seltzer, bottled water, soy milk, granola, yogurt, cheese, cans of Progresso soup, cans of albacore tuna in water, diet cranberry soda and toilet cleanser.

Once we loaded our bounty in my trusty Angus, we hit the road. After dropping off Hollaback and her groceries and her shipped goods from Crate & Barrel (and the girl has the good sense to bring her all-purpose multi-dimensional steel-plated cart for the occasion this morning), I head home. And here the disadvantages as a city apartment dweller comes full force.

I don't have the luxury of easing into my home driveway, popping open the trunk and making a few trips from driveway to kitchen with my plastic bags. You have to plan ahead. I stop in front of my building. I double park and put the hazard lights on the car. I unload the groceries into the vestibule of my building once I get permission from Luis (The Nice Doorman). Once I unload my bounty I drive to my garage which is three and half blocks away from my building. I park Angus, bid good evening to Ahmed (The Affable Garage Manager) and schlep back to the building. I then take the luggage cart (the same kind as you'd see in a hotel) and load it up with my groceries, brief case, purse, et al.

My building is undertaking upgrades on the elevators so only one is running. I wait for an elevator and then have the artful challenge of maneuvering a rigid cart with a lame epileptic wheel into a narrow elevator. I get upstairs, prop open my apartment door (which like most pre-War buildings, is made of a steel that is so heavy it slams like a tomb door when not held). I unload the groceries in the foyer, placate the cat with promises of food on my return and maneuver the cart back to the elevator bank to return to the lobby.

Did I mention only one elevator is functioning?

I wait a full five minutes to get a free elevator and then I attempt to move the luggage cart out of the elevator back into the lobby. The size of it and the elevator are not compatible. I struggle and physically have to lift it up in order to move it into position to exit the elevator. My elevator companion, a florid man who lives on the 12th floor watches and appears utterly bored. He does not help. In fact, he squeezes past the cart to exit the elevator while I am trying to maneuver the damned thing out.

I unload the cart in the lobby and then run for the elevator before the door shuts...because don't you know that once the door shuts, you could be waiting for a very long time. The door shuts before I get to it and I wait again. The second coming of Jesus Christ himself will come before this freaking elevator.

I wait. Far. Too. Long. No elevator comes. I decide to take the stairs.

By the time I get upstairs, I am panting and sweaty and grumpy. It's 8:43 pm. This has taken far too long. Well, at least I have food.