Saturday, August 2, 2008

Letter to a First Apartment

Dear 1st Apartment,

Wow.  I just can't believe we aren't together anymore.  I knew the day was coming when we would have to part, but I didn't think turning over my keys to the office would be as painful as it was.  You were my first big girl apartment, and even though our relationship had its ups and downs, I will always have a special place in my heart for you because you were the first.

Like all couples, we started off in a honeymoon phase.  I loved your vaulted ceilings in the livingroom, the large storage closet, your proximity to stores and restaurants and work, and the fact that you were all mine.  We shared some good times those first months - do you remember the time my friends and I took 4 hours to build a desk in the spare bedroom... and the bottom drawer never quite closed right?  Ah, so many laughs.  Soon all of my family came to meet you, and we took pictures together wanting to capture those early joyful days.

Sadly, as we moved through the years, your sheen began to wear off.  I discovered that your air conditioner was a cranky, volatile beast that would make noises like it was working, even when it was spewing nothing close to resembling cold air.  Your refrigerator made constant, unexplainable clucking noises.  You cost me an arm and a leg to heat in the winter (hot air does rise... right out my roof!).  However, the most upsetting discovery didn't come until two years into our relationship; after endless baking disasters, and salmonella-ridden chicken breasts, it finally became apparent that your oven needed a good hour to pre-heat, and even then may not have reached the desired temperature (oh, the ruined pecan pie, and Christmas cookies were the hardest to bear).

It takes two to tango however, and I brought my own share of issues to the marriage.  I'm sorry for the 32oz. Sprite that I spilled on the carpet.  I'm sorry for the pizza roll I dropped on the carpet mere days before we parted.  I'm sorry for the nail polish I spilled on the bedroom carpet (and I'm even sorrier that nail polish remover did not remove the cherry berry pink stain).  I forced you to endure countless furniture shifts, weeks without cleaning, and that unfortunate incident with the toilet and a certain someone (who was afterwards banned from using said toilet for anything other than #1).  

Thank you for all the fun Christmas parties and for accepting my attempts at holiday decorating (even when you were embarrassed to be seen with garland strung from the cupboards in June).  Thank you for letting NavyGuy crash there many a times (and again, I'm sorry he always got the bathroom mat wet - we're still working on that).  Thank you for having good cell phone reception, nice clean white walls, a working dishwasher, two big closets in the bedroom, somewhat reliable snow plowing, and much patience.  Thank you for never telling anyone that I threw my first real Christmas tree over your balcony on December 26th (after it had already been dead for probably a week), and did not clean up the needles that fell in the sliding door track for possibly 8-9 months.

You were a good little apartment.  You held all of my books, my movies, my first big apartment purchase (queen sized bed!), my cook books that gathered dust while I made Lean Cuisines, and my first four years of memories as a real live adult.  If you're ever in the neighborhood, feel free to call me for a drink - we'll reminisce about the good ole days, and wonder why we ever broke up.

All my love to the hallway and garage,
Tenant Mugs ('04-'08)


Anonymous,  August 2, 2008 at 6:44 PM  

Sad...this takes me down memory lane...moving NINE TIMES in four years of college. Every time I see a U-Haul I shed a tear for the poor suckers who rented it.

Good times.

Macy's mom

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