Saturday, September 3, 2011

Washing Machine? Washington? Wash Your Face?

After what seemed like 12 hours, but was actually 15, Brit, Brooke & I are now successfully living in our very own apartment. Located on Washtenaw Ave, our second story walk-up has all the modern conveniences one would hope for coupled with the old world charm of the Chicago of yesteryear. AKA, we have a dishwasher, but also an old school pulley system for bringing up bags of groceries.

Let me tell you how fun it is to move the belongings of three people from both deep central Wisconsin and the North Side. It's not.

But if you have the help of parents and nephews, it's not so bad. We enjoyed teaching Adam how to say "Washtenaw," a fairly confusing street name we are pretty sure is Native American for "too cool for school," while we hauled up three mattresses/box springs/bed frames. We only had to take the door off once to fit our monster of a couch, and Brit and I learned to just trust Joe. (Her Dad. Master of angles and leverage. Somehow knew exactly how to arrange every piece of furniture to maximize space in the van.) We have pots and pans and plastic utensils, along with a freezer full of bison meat and a pound of cheese in the fridge. (From my parents. I somehow went from a vegetarian to having a fully stocked freezer. Gotta love ethically-treated animals.) The giant margarita glass has already found a prime position in our hutch, alongside the beer stein and the five sets of salt & pepper shakers we somehow accumulated.

Because I'm the baby of the apartment, I have the closet-under-the-stairs bedroom. (Not literally, I think the closet under the stairs actually belongs to the tenants below us.) My view is of the swanky apartment complex next to us, or rather the balconies of the swanky apartment complex, filled with exotic plants and Weber grills and all-weather patio furniture. (Trying to make friends, don't worry.)

My favorite apartment feature is the front porch. Right now it is home to the basil plant and my TOMS, which are super smelly and aren't allowed inside. It's the perfect space for neighbor-watching (besides the bougie people on one side, we are also neighbors to what appears to be a traveling troupe of circus performers). We can also watch all the traffic on the bustling one-way below. There's not much, but let me tell you, what traffic lacks in quantity, it makes up for in quality. I'm talking Astro vans with 22" rims and Bikers Who Take Themselves Seriously.

It may be a while until all of our possessions find their places in the apartment, so if you see me wearing the same two or three outfits in the next couple of weeks, have no worries. Contrary to popular belief, I shower, and we also have our very own front-loading washer/dryer, so the limited wardrobe I have access to at the moment is clean.

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