Apartments

As I lay awake last night in my incredibly stuffy bedroom sharing a queen size bed with my 6'4" SNORING husband, I tried to console myself with recollections of my previous apartment living experiences.

There was my very first apartment in Massachusetts in a really bad part of town. The young couple with a baby upstairs fought non-stop, and if the police weren't there responding to a domestic violence call, she was banging on my door with her baby asking to sleep on my living room floor while he sobered up. Upside? It was $300/month. Very affordable for a college student with three low paying part time jobs.

My next apartment was in a better part of town, but it was in the attic with no windows, just sky-lights. I felt like some sort of science experiment in sense deprivation. Not being able to see out is maddening. I think I was slightly weird in those days.

My next apartment was in a quaint little seaside village. It was large and bright and, like all the old Victorians in that town, it had a historical marker dating back to the early 1800's. I shared this beautiful place with a very inconsiderate roommate...and a ghost. Not kidding. She was very inconsiderate. Now, I don't believe in ghosts, but I believed in Ted. He hid things, made weird noises, and generally freaked us out. I asked him kindly one day to please leave us alone. After that he was gone. I asked the inconsiderate roommate to leave me alone too, but she stayed.

Then I moved to Texas. Yee-haw!

My first TX apartment had windows (yippee!), A/C (thank the Lord), lots of room, and lots of bugs! Oh the ants, the ants! They were in my pantry, my bathroom, my clothes! I had the heebie-jeebies 24-7. The apartment complex sprayed weekly, but the ants fought back. Eventually they won and I moved to my last apartment as a single girl.

That apartment was actually nice. It was in a good area of Houston, I had several friends near by, and it was close to work. However, all was not perfect. I shared a bedroom wall with lesbians that really loved each other. Often. Trust me...not good. Then there was the creepy guy with the parrot that kept tabs on me and left love notes on my car. Oh and let's not forget the mysterious "person" below me that played "Macarena" on repeat until 1am. What?????

So as I lay next to my loving husband, knowing my kids are sleeping safely a few feet away, I realize I really can't complain about my current situation. It's large (for an apartment), clean, safe, and best of all...temporary. I can deal with that.

As long as the ants stay away.


~J