I had a minor meltdown earlier this week and started plotting ways to get us out of this apartment. After unnecessary and unreasonable complaining and other pitiful excuses for logic, I discovered that I absolutely hate living in a messy apartment — and that my hatred for a messy apartment is (surprisingly) greater than my hatred for cleaning.
Once I started cleaning, I was cleaning everywhere. I scrubbed the gas stove top until it was white and sparkly. I swept and mopped. I sorted the books on the bookshelf into size-based stacks and turned half the stacks horizontal for “visual interest.” I took every single loose page from my bar study prep classes (I saved them all on the chance I did not pass the first time, and then promptly forgot about them) to the recycling bin. Our apartment is feeling comfortable and homey again, and I think I can maintain this and then push a littler farther next weekend so by April 1st our entire home will be bright and shiny.
So really, it turns out that my meltdown was due to my own laziness and busyness and refusal to put my foot down and manage my insane life. And now that we are more settled around here, everything seems more do-able, and life seems like something to look forward to and enjoy instead of dread. I don’t actually hate every single thing about our apartment, I kind of love most things about it. There are things I hate — for instance, the bubbled-up water damage surrounding our kitchen sink, the hole in the drywall left by the electrician who “doesn’t do drywall” and also does not tell landlords that he leaves giant holes in the wall, the leaky walls and terrible kitchen the tiny bathroom, etc. — but I love things about it too.
I love that this is the first and only place where H and I have had the same home, and that I finally have a new dining table and “matching” china cabinet that honestly still make me feel so happy and excited. I love that Leo fits quite nicely in the bathroom sink and that he can run and play without damaging anything since I don’t think it is possible to do damage to this apartment at this point. And right now, while sitting at our beautiful table and drinking a hot mug of P.G. Tips (the greatest tea in the world — seriously, get it right now), the sun is across my keyboard and I am quite comfortable and cozy.
But don’t get me wrong, if the landlady tries to raise our rent again, we are totally out of here. Because another $35/month will be TOO MUCH for leaky windows and no washing machine. (Can someone please win the lottery and send me $178,000 to pay off my law school debt so I can buy a house? Thanks.)