buying prescription medicines from

Livin’ it up – apartment style!

by Christa on December 8, 2010

in Daily Digest,Dog Babies,Haus Ginsburg

It has been a year and a half since Shane and I have lived in an apartment and we have NEVER lived in a one bedroom apartment together – much less with two dogs.  I’m trying to look at the whole thing as an adventure but it is hard.  I mean hard.

This shoebox is approximately 600 square feet and the oversized rental furniture is barely squeezed into the rooms.  Charlie will jump from the armchair to the couch to the leather ottoman (which doubles as a coffee table).  And forget having guests over – Shane’s parents, sister, and future-brother-in-law were over the night we were leaving for our Dallas Thanksgiving and Shane was getting grouchy because it was SO LOUD AND CROWDED.  The volume might be because we are all loud, but the roominess?  Fuhgeddaboudit.

The dogs need room to run – so they just make figure-eights around the ottoman and breakfast table (which is about two feet away from the couch).  One bathroom – if Shane is in the shower in the morning, I can’t have a post-slumber pee.  Yes, we’re one of those couples who doesn’t use the restroom in front of each other – let’s keep some mystery, folks.

Now, if the whole living-on-top-of-one-another thing weren’t bad enough…it gets worse.  We have NONE of our stuff.  Correction…we have our clothes, some toiletries, and some dog stuff.  No kitchen stuff.  We made latkes for Hanukkah (pictures to come once I find our camera cord, but like I said – none of our stuff) and the burner and/or pan was bent, so it didn’t cook evenly and part of the pan was smoking – unhook smoke detector, open sliding door.  

So anytime I think of something I want…well forget it, we don’t have it.  Crapola.  Except clothes, most of which I need to give away or sell on Ebay because I don’t wear them.  I’ve been trying to restock my wardrobe.  I need to have Houston friends raid my closet (read: wardrobe boxes) before I do so, too.

Poor Shane didn’t know what clothes or shoes I would want so (like any good husband would) he had them bring it all.  Except now we have box upon box stacked in our already cramped bedroom. 

We have to be out of the corporate apartment by next Friday evening and no, we don’t know where we’re going.  We’ll figure it out.  I think.

Leave a Comment

8 + = twelve

Previous post:

Next post: