So, three years ago last month, I left my ex-husband and moved into a nine hundred square foot apartment on the bad end of the town I grew up in...which..in all fairness, is about five hundred feet from the good end. I lived downstairs from a drunk guy who used to lock his girlfriend out and sing Marvin Gaye songs while she beat on the door. Long story short, I lost my job, my fiancée, and my ability to support myself and had to move back home.
With my new life goals, I've begun to look at apartments on the internet. I was pondering a two hundred square footer, and my mom asked the question, "How would you feel about living in an apartment again?" I've had some time to formulate an answer, and here's what I've come up with. It will be better than living here for much longer!
I have a twelve by twelve bedroom, which I've had to cram all my stuff into. I have no closet, so I have an antique wardrobe full of clothes, clothes hanging on one side of the room, and shelves with baskets full of my folding clothes. My mother talks all freaking night long. Dad must get bored, so I swear to biscuits, he rearranges all the books on the shelf all night. I get phone calls at weird hours, and then have to hear, "I wouldn't talk to people that late if I were you..." every time I get a call. To the point that I'm planning on getting up and going out to my car to avoid it....and it's cold out.
I cannot have a moment's peace either. Somebody is always yelling for me. Or my dad comes into my room after yelling, "Entering!" and says, "Your mother wants to see you." Well...she just saw me not five minutes ago, the last time she called me in there.
You know, that two hundred square foot apartment is only $395 a month. Hm. I wonder if I can move in next week...
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