Moving, part II
So, for the majority of our lives-past-parents, Alisa and I have belonged to the curious phylum of apartment dwelling beings. Until now. We've just moved into our first real house together last week. Different, this is. (Before we go too far, I should clarify: we're RENTING, not buying. BUYING a home in Boulder requires more than a meager teacher's salary, a cute little baby and equally cute stay-at-home mom, and school loans out the...you know. So, renting.) Anyway, different, this is, from apartment living. How, you may ask? I'll share:
1. There are no longer any sketchy 'next-doors' below you, bellowing their personal favorite country music selections at 6:45 a.m.
2. There are no longer any abrasive 'next-doors' above you, bellowing their personal favorite horrid death metal music selections at 11:45 p.m.
3. There are none of the aforementioned 'next-doors' smoking on their balcony below or above, forcing you to seal yourselves into your little 800 sq. ft. carpeted, vaulted ceiling-ed ZipLock bag of an apartment, sucking stale recycled air for the sake of your child (and you) not contracting the Black Lung.
4. After a trip out, you can walk right in your front door without first negotiating 6 flights of stairs while carrying an infant, 7 plastic grocery bags and clothes in one arm, and keys, diaper bag and an unwieldly bicycle in the other.
5. In a house, there are certain specific responsibilities such as watering the lawn, raking the grass, mowing the grass, putting up curtains and towel racks, arranging then re-arranging the storage shed out back, borrowing the neighbors' tools (because no one amasses yard tools when living in an apartment), purchasing and laying area rugs in certain rooms...and the list goes on.
6. In a house, at the end of the day, you can gather up the fam, pop open a couple of those beers the neighbors brought over "just because", and sit on your own front porch, engage in small talk or consentual silence, and watch the sun set over the Flatirons. Arguably, one could do this in an apartment, but not really. Different, this is. We're just silly happy with it all.
1. There are no longer any sketchy 'next-doors' below you, bellowing their personal favorite country music selections at 6:45 a.m.
2. There are no longer any abrasive 'next-doors' above you, bellowing their personal favorite horrid death metal music selections at 11:45 p.m.
3. There are none of the aforementioned 'next-doors' smoking on their balcony below or above, forcing you to seal yourselves into your little 800 sq. ft. carpeted, vaulted ceiling-ed ZipLock bag of an apartment, sucking stale recycled air for the sake of your child (and you) not contracting the Black Lung.
4. After a trip out, you can walk right in your front door without first negotiating 6 flights of stairs while carrying an infant, 7 plastic grocery bags and clothes in one arm, and keys, diaper bag and an unwieldly bicycle in the other.
5. In a house, there are certain specific responsibilities such as watering the lawn, raking the grass, mowing the grass, putting up curtains and towel racks, arranging then re-arranging the storage shed out back, borrowing the neighbors' tools (because no one amasses yard tools when living in an apartment), purchasing and laying area rugs in certain rooms...and the list goes on.
6. In a house, at the end of the day, you can gather up the fam, pop open a couple of those beers the neighbors brought over "just because", and sit on your own front porch, engage in small talk or consentual silence, and watch the sun set over the Flatirons. Arguably, one could do this in an apartment, but not really. Different, this is. We're just silly happy with it all.
posted by just a guy at 6:40 AM
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