We moved into our 1 bedroom, high rise apartment in downtown Seattle when I was about 4 months pregnant with Babboo. We had just sold the house we had built ourselves. My emotions were a mess with the new pregnancy, an upcoming trip to Europe, and of course, packing up a house full of items (of which we sold most of or put into storage) and trying to cram ourselves into our little apartment. Neither one of us knew how long it would take to build our new house, so we didn’t know how long we’d be in the apartment.
It’s been about 18 months. The little apartment feels like home now. We’re settled. By now I’ve forgotten about all of my things that are put in our storage unit. (What was I thinking when I put all my pre-pregnancy clothes in storage? I miss them. I want them back.) I can’t remember what the furniture we sold even looked like. I don’t miss cleaning the 3 bathrooms. I sure as heck don’t miss weeding the yard. I don’t miss having to sweep dust bunnies off the wood floor in the spare rooms, or looking for Preston hiding in one of the closets. I don’t miss trying to locate a hammer in our massive 2.5 car garage.
But I do.
I miss having another bathroom to get ready in so that I don’t bother The King while he shaves (or poops, either way). I miss not having to leave my house to do laundry. I miss not having a room that I don’t have to share with a crib. I miss not having a couch to read on while The King watches TV on the other couch. I miss having spare rooms for house guests. I miss having grass and a fence. I miss not having to pay $200 a month, just for a parking space in our own complex. I miss having the quiet of my own house.
While it’s more money to live in a downtown apartment as opposed to one closer to where our new house is, I love living here. I truly believe that I have the best commute of anyone in the entire world. Bold statement, I know. I walk 4 blocks to work. The King walks about 15 blocks. Dude, you can’t beat that with a stick.
And while I complain that all 3 of us aren’t set up to share a bedroom, there is no way I could justify paying $800 (or whatever it was) more a month for a 2 bedroom apartment. No way at all. We didn’t even look at a 2 bedroom unit. We didn’t want to be tempted. We kept telling ourselves, this is only temporary.
Right about now I’m starting to get a lot of the when is your new house going to be done questions. I never know what the correct response is. Do I lie; we’ll be moving on August 1st, wanna help me pack? Or do I tell them the truth; I have absolutely no idea. Mostly I just say; The King is working as hard as he can. He’s over there every evening and every Saturday. Remember, he’s building this house himself.
When we finally get into the new house I picture it being like a fat guy on Thanksgiving. You know when he undoes his top button and his gut just hangs over and he breaths a sigh of relief. We’re just going to spread out and love all the space.
I really don’t know how much longer we’ll be in our high rise apartment. Maybe the end of the summer? Maybe until Christmas? Maybe by next spring? I don’t know. I try to not think about it.
Instead I try to find more places in the apartment where I can store my things. Pretty much the only available space left is in the elevator.
Do you think the other tenants will mind if I keep the boxes full of my winter clothes in there?
originally posted on May 2, 2007 at holaisabel.com
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I love this post — I loved it when I first read it, and it’s fun to re-visit it now. I say go ahead and store your boxes in the elevator. If the neighbors don’t like it, they can just use the stairs, right?