Sometimes, you just have to pick up and go. Other times, you grab and bolt.
Seven years ago, I lived in an apartment complex with lots of trees. LOTS of trees. I was in an upstairs unit, and the patio looked down one of the tree-lined paths between the buildings. It was like living in a treehouse.
I moved away from the area, returning almost four years ago. I couldn’t afford an apartment there, so found something else. It wasn’t as attractive, it wasn’t as large, there weren’t any trees, there wasn’t a dishwasher, it was underpowered (and not up to code), but it fit my budget at the time. I moved in, repainted the walls, made that place a home-like substitute. Five months ago, I got on the waitlist for a one bedroom in Treehouse Central.
Five days ago, I moved in to my new place. Some photographic evidence of why I call it “Treehouse Central”:
I haven’t gotten everything in place yet — for one, I misplaced the hardware to assemble the computer desk — but I’m loving it! Last night I had my dishwasher running, AND the TV on, and the refridgerator on, AND briefly ran the vacuum to clean up some spilled coffee grounds…and no fuses blew. (On a side note, it’s a bit second-world* when that is such an exciting event.) * Why do we have the common terms “first world” and “third world” but not “second world”? Is it because first world nations don’t want to be reminded that they’re a serious natural disaster and an infrastructure collapse away from losing their first world status?
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