I like my apartment. It is teeny tiny and super old, but I like it. Today at the bank, the lady behind the desk asked me my address. When I told her Champions Pines, a smile took to her face. “that was my first apartment. It was only 500 square feet,” exactly the one I’ve got now, “but it was mine.” And I have to say, I know her exact feeling. This place is so small, but it’s MINE. What a cool feeling. There are little things to get used to.

  • Shut the fridge twice. It sneaks back open the first time.
  • There is absolutely no way to make the balcony lock other than the metal stick that wedges between it and the wall.
  • If you want to be able to access book case, close closet door.
  • Air conditioner makes the sliding door blinds do a constant tap tap tap. No one is trying to kill you.
  • Oven top spits out about twice the heat you select, and no one likes burnt spaghettios.
  • Remember that just because you can afford beer doesn’t mean you can forget I buy water…

But all the small things that I have to deal with are exactly that. Things for me, and me alone, to handle, because it’s mine. So as I sit in my kitchen/living room, listening to the prince of Egypt soundtrack and cooking beef stew till Andrew comes over for dinner, life is good. Very very good.


And speaking of, go watch batman. It wa awesome, so just do it. Ok? Ok.
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