Shower Curtains
I spent most of yesterday looking for a new apartment. I made so many calls that I can no longer keep them all straight and keep having to ask people who call back to give me the address of their building. Fortunately, it is easier to move in the winter, it seems. Everyone wants to be tucked in and warm in the winter. Not hauling their stuff all over town and setting up in a new place where you don't already know how the heat and snow clearing of the driveway work. And where you have to live without your boyfriend of three years who is very warm (plus lots of other nice qualities).
I will not be sad to live again in a state where I do not have to scrap snow off of my car in the morning--or ever. Don't get me wrong, I love to visit snow. I love skiing--the crisp cool wind in your face. I love the quiet white blankets and the hushed fall of snow from over-loaded trees. I just don't love having to walk into it as I open my front door. I don't love driving in it.
Anyway, I have looked at a few places already. They are nice. One I saw today actually felt like it could be very right. It still had the furniture in it from the previous occupant (a girl who moved in with her boyfriend--how ironic). Furniture in the place makes it look so much more livable--obviously.
When I looked at the first place a couple weeks ago (the one right next door, which I'm now finding was a great deal, but it would have been hard to be this close to M.), the thing that struck me most was the shower curtain.
When I was packing all of my stuff to move in with M., I downsized, sold things, gave things away, and generally tried to compact my life. When you are combining two lives and apartments into one there are several items that are duplicated: microwave, couch, table, desk, chairs, etc. And shower curtains.
Of course a shower curtain is not something that you'd save to use later. They cost, what, $2.49 at Target? For the plastic lining, at least. The outer pretty part is more, but you wouldn't necessarily save that either. I ended up donating mine to the Goodwill store. And the plastic lining was donated to the dumpster.
As I packed, I considered the fates of my shower curtains, I remember feeling excited that I could get rid of them--glad that I could trade them in for a shared curtain, shared bathroom, shared apartment, shared life. Of course parts of it would be hard, I knew. Adjusting to chore distribution and allowing for private time for each of us.
It actually turned out to be much smoother than I'd ever anticipated. It was fun...and still is fun. I like living with him. We get along well. We are comfortable enough with each other to walk around naked still. We visit (some) and squabble over dishes and make up and make each other dinner and tease and laugh and hurt. It feels as if we are really close roommates--ideal roommates, actually. Just maybe not ideal lovers...not ideal forever. It makes me sad.
And seeing the shower-curtain-less bathroom in that empty apartment reminded me of all that. I would be alone again. I would have to depend on myself alone. Make my own dinner. Eat it alone most nights. Sleep alone. Come home to an empty place where everything would be exactly as I'd left it. And, I would have to get my own shower curtain...again.
I will not be sad to live again in a state where I do not have to scrap snow off of my car in the morning--or ever. Don't get me wrong, I love to visit snow. I love skiing--the crisp cool wind in your face. I love the quiet white blankets and the hushed fall of snow from over-loaded trees. I just don't love having to walk into it as I open my front door. I don't love driving in it.
Anyway, I have looked at a few places already. They are nice. One I saw today actually felt like it could be very right. It still had the furniture in it from the previous occupant (a girl who moved in with her boyfriend--how ironic). Furniture in the place makes it look so much more livable--obviously.
When I looked at the first place a couple weeks ago (the one right next door, which I'm now finding was a great deal, but it would have been hard to be this close to M.), the thing that struck me most was the shower curtain.
When I was packing all of my stuff to move in with M., I downsized, sold things, gave things away, and generally tried to compact my life. When you are combining two lives and apartments into one there are several items that are duplicated: microwave, couch, table, desk, chairs, etc. And shower curtains.
Of course a shower curtain is not something that you'd save to use later. They cost, what, $2.49 at Target? For the plastic lining, at least. The outer pretty part is more, but you wouldn't necessarily save that either. I ended up donating mine to the Goodwill store. And the plastic lining was donated to the dumpster.
As I packed, I considered the fates of my shower curtains, I remember feeling excited that I could get rid of them--glad that I could trade them in for a shared curtain, shared bathroom, shared apartment, shared life. Of course parts of it would be hard, I knew. Adjusting to chore distribution and allowing for private time for each of us.
It actually turned out to be much smoother than I'd ever anticipated. It was fun...and still is fun. I like living with him. We get along well. We are comfortable enough with each other to walk around naked still. We visit (some) and squabble over dishes and make up and make each other dinner and tease and laugh and hurt. It feels as if we are really close roommates--ideal roommates, actually. Just maybe not ideal lovers...not ideal forever. It makes me sad.
And seeing the shower-curtain-less bathroom in that empty apartment reminded me of all that. I would be alone again. I would have to depend on myself alone. Make my own dinner. Eat it alone most nights. Sleep alone. Come home to an empty place where everything would be exactly as I'd left it. And, I would have to get my own shower curtain...again.
posted by S. at 5:29 PM
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