New York City with the exception of Manhattan has the most amount of subprime mortgages. I hope that nobody is affected by this too much. I truly hope that I’m not affected.
This is the first in a series about selling a Manhattan apartment. It’s not fun. I’m kind of paralyzed. This is about all the things I have to do before putting it up for sale. Everybody else seems to do this effortlessly

I’m weighing the pros and cons about blogging about the sale process.
It’s hard for me to believe that people will care about emptying the
storage cage. Which has the world’s largest quarter collection–just
in case dollar bills someday became extinct–in a bowling bag. A vintage very nice one. Next to the bag from Viet Nam.

Boxes of perfectly cleaned clothes–from 10 to 25 years old–all sizes in
plexiglass containers. Boxes of moldy books I have to throw out–the basement
had a flood. Bags filled with papers I didn’t need but didn’t want to
throw out. I will bring them up and shred them.

Boxes of things I never put in my apartment. Obviously I don’t need those things. Especially the ten boxes of plaster brackets but I have had some stuff since I was a teenager. Did shred all the report cards etc. Have to be merciless in discarding things.

Then I have to get them to get rid of the mold that has cropped up around the shower, paint all the surfaces
that were skim coated after various floods–so many I gave up
repainting and have a distinct tied died theme that only I notice. The floods were a good thing as the steam risers were replaced and trap doors, not noticeable, put in places where pipes tend to burst. This is a pre-war building. Floods are a given. I have had the worst, probably that the apartment can have. Our super is amazing with floods. He can talk about floods forever. The only time I have seen him excited was when he was pointing out pipes–on my bedroom floor. They’re all in a schematic now.
Have to get the small fire damaged area in the kitchen sanded and
painted–and have them do something about the area around the
sink–can’t think of what it’s called–the outer layer is peeling. Oh
yes, I found out the pipe in the kitchen sink is plastic and illegal

When I was working the window screens–specially ordered–each window
in the building is a different size–were measured and put in. I came
home to one screen each in the living room and the bedroom and screens
in the bathroom windows which I didn’t want. The original shades have
been falling apart

Oh the bathtub which I have use about four times a year–separate
shower needs to be reglazed though it’s been cleaned like fine silk.
The marble in the bathroom needs sealing as does the granite in the
kitchen/foyer. The new bedroom floor is already warping and there’s an area they couldn’t fit the wood exactly. I had them leave the concrete and was going to pour concrete over it but that couldn’t happen for some reason I forget. It’s the entry foyer to the bedroom. There used to be a soaking tub but it was taken out and I have the world’s smallest bedroom half bath. But it’s all white with subway tile and absolutely lovely. The bedroom is like a jewel case. It looked tiny when I first saw it, but I decorated it so that people think it’s large. I have a good eye. I’m a glass, steel, some wood person

It sounds truly gross but it’s adorable. Everybody loves it. Has
much curb appeal even in this condition. It’s actually in good condition. I see through magnified eyes.

I’m the only person who sees every deficiency but if I were going to
be paying that much for an apartment I would make sure that everything
is perfect even if I’m planning to renovate totally on general
principle. I want max money

Putting an apartment up for a sale is a very judgmental experience for
anybody. For me it reminds me of all my perceived weaknesses. Though
my family loves it, I can hear the voice of my father telling me how
imperfect I am. He never saw the apartment but I know he would have much to say. Maybe it would be good. Everybody else has only good to see, but I’m so used to looking at the horrible.

Maybe I should write about it but it feels the most personal of all
personal things.