A Shiny New Home
Tuesday night I got the keys to the Promised Land.
That's what I call my new apartment. The place itself isn't any bigger- in fact, except for the second full bathroom (I know, right?) it's probably smaller. Still, everything is in great condition, the building is nice and quiet, partking is plentiful, and crime rates are super low. I met Maintanence Andy to go through the place and make sure everything was in order, and found out he actually lived in the same building. He mentioned the insulation is good so he never hears his neighbors, and that most of the old people (which is about 40% of the building's population) take the good parking spots in front of the building near the elevator.
While I've been excited to get out of my crappy neighborhood, up to this point I haven't been really excited about the new space. And no one actually LIKES moving stuff. But standing in my new home, a cold Sam Adams in one hand and a new set of keys in the other, I felt it.
Deciding where things go is an intimidating chore for me. My spacial memory is not great, so just because in my brain my couch would fit in a certain spot doesn't mean it will in reality. I have a general idea of what rooms furniture will go in, but how they will be arranged? I think I'll just have to do that on the fly.
Also, I'm pretty sure I have way too much furniture. My current (old?) place has a pretty big floorplan (was able to fit THREE couches in the living room) whereas the new space is a little more... conservative. Luckily, I have a HUGE storage space, and it's not even through a creepy-ass basement!*
I'm getting that "fresh start" feeling. It's like, Ultra-Spring Cleaning. I've purged a lot since I'd really rather not move crap I never use, and I know I'll purge even more when unpacking. It's exciting and scary to be the only one on the lease- a place that's mine and mine only. Ok, it's not like I OWN it, but it's my own responsibility to maintain it and pay for it. I feel like I'm finally ready for this.
*My current building is an old Catholic school built in the late 1800's. The foundation is stone, and in order to get to the storage rooms in the basement you must first walk through the dimply lit old offices with warped wood panel, the creepy echo-y hallway, into a room I call the "pit" since it's not unlike the pit of despair with one bare bulb lighting it, THEN into the catacombs where the storage spaces are. I try to never go down there alone.
That's what I call my new apartment. The place itself isn't any bigger- in fact, except for the second full bathroom (I know, right?) it's probably smaller. Still, everything is in great condition, the building is nice and quiet, partking is plentiful, and crime rates are super low. I met Maintanence Andy to go through the place and make sure everything was in order, and found out he actually lived in the same building. He mentioned the insulation is good so he never hears his neighbors, and that most of the old people (which is about 40% of the building's population) take the good parking spots in front of the building near the elevator.
While I've been excited to get out of my crappy neighborhood, up to this point I haven't been really excited about the new space. And no one actually LIKES moving stuff. But standing in my new home, a cold Sam Adams in one hand and a new set of keys in the other, I felt it.
Deciding where things go is an intimidating chore for me. My spacial memory is not great, so just because in my brain my couch would fit in a certain spot doesn't mean it will in reality. I have a general idea of what rooms furniture will go in, but how they will be arranged? I think I'll just have to do that on the fly.
Also, I'm pretty sure I have way too much furniture. My current (old?) place has a pretty big floorplan (was able to fit THREE couches in the living room) whereas the new space is a little more... conservative. Luckily, I have a HUGE storage space, and it's not even through a creepy-ass basement!*
I'm getting that "fresh start" feeling. It's like, Ultra-Spring Cleaning. I've purged a lot since I'd really rather not move crap I never use, and I know I'll purge even more when unpacking. It's exciting and scary to be the only one on the lease- a place that's mine and mine only. Ok, it's not like I OWN it, but it's my own responsibility to maintain it and pay for it. I feel like I'm finally ready for this.
*My current building is an old Catholic school built in the late 1800's. The foundation is stone, and in order to get to the storage rooms in the basement you must first walk through the dimply lit old offices with warped wood panel, the creepy echo-y hallway, into a room I call the "pit" since it's not unlike the pit of despair with one bare bulb lighting it, THEN into the catacombs where the storage spaces are. I try to never go down there alone.
Labels: apartment, ManchVegas, moving
posted by leeapeea @ 8:32 AM
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