I’ve recently moved into an apartment with my three children after being spoiled by having lived in a house in a nice, quiet neighborhood after 7 years. Here are some of the things that I forgot about apartment living that I’m having a difficult time relearning:
Neighbors. Holy cow, the neighbors! We used to live around a bunch of older couples and some younger ones with kids. Sure, there are plenty of kids here, but some of these folk have the crazy-eyes that make you wonder if they spend their spare time skinning and eating people or if they’re just on drugs. Not to mention that every time someone in my building shuts their door, mine rattles. When someone knocks across the hall, I instantly spring into ninja mode thinking that someone is here to rape me or give me a giant check with lots of zeroes and some balloons. Needless to say, my sex life is lacking and I’m still completely broke.
No yard. The Minions were used to being able to go outside and roam freely whenever they wanted, or when they started driving me crazy and I told them to (lovingly) get the hell out of my house. They could ride bikes, go to a friend’s house, draw in the road with chalk or whatever their little hearts desired. Now, I don’t know where any of their friends live and neither do they. I’m not about to let my kids go exploring into the unknown, and to be honest, I have no desire to get to know this place. Some of these people are pretty scary!
Decorating. The windows came equipped with those super cheap blinds that I’m not allowed to take down. Sure, I could hang some curtains if I wanted to so that it looked more like a home than a roomy prison, but then I’d have to pay to fix the drywall before I move out. No thank you! I can’t paint without having to redo it before I leave (I like dramatic colors) and I really don’t want to put up too much crap because I don’t plan on renewing my lease if I can help it.
Dog poop. Some people don’t seem to understand that when you take your dog for a walk in a public area, you’re supposed to pick up after them. If my kids step in crap one more time, I’m going to start following people around outside with plastic grocery bags and not-so-politely telling them that I’m sick of their shit by adding heavy rocks to the bags and hurling them at their heads. Because I don’t talk to strangers.
The kitchen. I worked as a chef for over 6 years. How the hell do you expect me to create a culinary masterpiece in a damn hallway with an oven with three tiny burners and only one big one? What if I want to make lasagna? What if I want to cook bacon and eggs at the same time? You know who makes scrambled eggs in a saucepan? Hung-over campers and people with broken taste buds, that’s who. I also don’t like waiting an hour to boil pasta. It’s lame.
Just go home now, stove. You’re drunk.
Noise. I’m finally starting to get used to it, but I hate the fact that I know my neighbors’ bathroom habits and schedules – especially at night. If I wanted to listen to someone poop, I’d go hang out with my 5 year old after she announces that she needs to take a dump. I’ve also finally stopped yelling up the stairs for my kids to quit running inside while they’re still sleeping. Don’t even get me started on the sexual habits of some people around here! That’s an entirely different post that will be coming soon where I show you my passive aggressive side.
I have too much shit! Again, I lived in a house with a lot of storage space for 7 years. I still have boxes here that I have yet to unpack because I don’t know where to put all my stuff! Most of the storage was built into the house, so now I’m at a complete loss as to what the hell to do with my crafty things (that I rarely use anyways) or even where to put all the kitchen supplies!
Checking the mail. I had a hard enough time remembering to check the mail when it was at the end of my driveway. Now that it’s halfway across the complex and I need a key?! You’ve got to be shitting me! All I get are bills and junk anyways. It can sit there for a week or three. My kids make enough garbage.
Pants. I have to wear pants all the freaking time now! Do you know how much I despise that? It’s a lot. I never know which one of the shades my youngest has decided to play with and leave up, so in order to not shock the neighbors or have the police called on me for indecent exposure, I have to cover it up. Damn it!
The Wildlife. Don’t get me wrong here, I love having squirrels running around outside. They’re so stinking adorable that it makes my heart hurt. Hell, sometimes I even walk out onto the balcony to find them mating in the tree right there, and that makes me giggle like a lunatic because I’m immature and squirrels give no fucks. I admire that. I am not, however, a fan of the birds that are nesting in the roof right above my bedroom. I noticed little skittering noises in my ceiling shortly after moving in. Thank glob I noticed it was only happening during the day when the birds would fly up towards the roof and then started hearing the tiny peeps of the babies. Of course, I started naming them and talk to them whenever I notice it because it makes it a little less creepy, and, well, I name strange animals. Don’t judge me.
If they had been rats, raccoons, mice, my beloved squirrely friends or any other burrowing animal, I would have freaked the fuck out and called the FBI, the CIA and the damn Ghostbusters because I can’t deal with the thought of waking up with holes in my ceiling and tiny turds on my pillow.
What about you? Do you or have you ever lived in an apartment? What did you hate about it the most?