Yesterday, I moved into my apartment: N-72.
Or what I am now affectionately calling it: The Shady Shank.
& that my friends is putting it mildly.
It just isn't a good place.
Don't believe me?
Let me show you why it needs to be dubbed such a title.
First impressions are sort of a big deal.
It has become apparent that N-72 doesn't seem to think so, though.
A hole in the pantry door?
Ok, perfect thanks Park Place Apartments.
Orange greasy meat stains in the microwave?
I want to scratch that right up & eat it for breakfast.
Speaking of breakfast,
I know whenever I cook in the kitchen I prefer to do it with the lights out, & if I am lucky in complete darkness.
I think this is preferable to most.
Who needs a door handle to get into your room when there are dead bolts without keys to be had?
I daresay I don't.
& last but not least.
Box spring mattresses with a mattress on top.
I hope whichever of my roommates are across the hall from me won't be bothered that they will practically be nestling on the ground.
Bed frames are overrated.
This picture shows the silver lining.
My bed frame felt as though it was going to crack & wither away if I gained 3 ounces, so my dear partner in crime (P.I.C.) Aubrie Tilley & I stole her roommates' bed frame threw it into the back of a truck & hauled it upstairs into my room.
(well actually if I am being completely truthful we enlisted some football men to assist us, but you get the general idea.)
Yes, swapping & rearranging bedtime furniture is probably an illegal activity, but hey, N-72 needed one happy spot, don't you think?