Apartments Are Okay (If You Don't Mind Always Feeling Annoyed)

Welcome to today, brought to you by those fine folks (or single entity, or electrons, or whatever) who brought you yesterday and, presumably, tomorrow.

Last week, I decided that the apartment wasn't so bad, compared to the nightmarish mountain of responsibility soon to be thrust upon me by home ownership. I could tolerate things like a random leak appearing in the ceiling directly over the papers I needed for my mortgage. I could withstand the thunka thunka thunka of hideous music at disgusting decibels for three hours of my Saturday morning. The repair crew not understanding that I want the bathroom fan to work, rather than having the mold cleaned off the walls? Acceptable - at least the walls were cleaned.

Doing it all myself is a daunting prospect, especially when it involves having zero dollars for an undetermined period of time. I know this is part of the process and I'll get over it; I'm just glad to have a few weeks to think about it all and let it sink in, rather than regretting it once I'm in the new place. In the meantime, I'm remembering the exciting things, like the window bench we want to install, or a Saturday morning in the tea room, which (presumably) does not leak.

Also, distractions like my newest nephew help. Thanks, little dude.

Baby's first thumbs-up!

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