Our Apartment

There's something about living in a larger home that is at once appealing and yet diminishing at the same time. We have moved into a more commodious apartment, a two-bedroom that resides at the end of Far Rockaway, as far away on the A train line as it is possible to go. It is a seven story building, with a total of ninety one flats to let.

It is much different from living in Balsam Village. So far, we have spent about a month in the neighborhood. It used to be six apartments in the building, two apartments on each floor, where we used to live. A small garden apartment that was nice and cheap, good enough for poverty stricken college students.

But now, it seems as prospects are looking up, although the place we have chosen to live for the next year or so is undeniably poorer. That is all right though, for we are still very dependent upon the bounty of family goodwill until Kevin graduates.

To describe about the apartment, it is nothing of course in comparison to the lavish homes that I have read and dreamed about. Today I saw a luxurious Victorian mansion, perfectly furnished with all manner of gleaming woods and chandeliers. But it is a nice enough place for us to dream in.

The walls are all painted fresh, though there are dabs of poorly done splotches that show up in brightest sunlight. They are a creamy, antiqueish white in color that is complementary to what furniture we have. The kitchen is in between the two bedrooms, the junior office one is very well lit by two windows on adjacent walls, and has a small but deep closet that is currently stored with business books. Not much furniture here, only the computer desk and the litter boxes for the cats.

Our kitchen, which admittedly has seen very little cooking as of late, seems all brand new, and is a delight to the eye with its friendly white cabinets and black "granite" looking counter tops. We have purchased a little white wood cabinet that holds spices and food containers and letters and pills and other odds and ends for a pittance. On top lies the microwave and tiny Mr Coffee maker.

What I grandly call the master bedroom is usually rather a bit of a shambles, unless company is coming. Our walnut furniture set has got a number of knickknacks sitting all willy nilly, and our television on it. The air conditioner is blocked off with bits of old newspaper and plastic tape... not very elegant, but what is one to do with short funds? Clothes are normally strewn about the floor, usually with a cat getting hair over everything. A load or two of laundry always waiting to be done, and blankets and sheets are wrinkled and tossed about with wild abandon.

The large living room has dusty floors that are rarely swept, and a pile of books on every available surface (truly every room has a number of books scattered about, and most likely a cat as well). A dirty glass here, a small plate with crumbs on the dining table. But it is homey and pretty to look at nonetheless, with the sheer white checkered curtains by the two windows, and plants in pots shining verdantly in the sun. It would only need a cheerful tablecloth, a vase of colorful flowers or two, some candles, much cleaning, another comfy chair, perhaps a coffee table and some tasteful pictures and shelves to put it to rights.

Overall, we are very happy here, though there is not much to do here. But at times we go to the beach at night, when there are so few people about, and it seems worth the small bit of discomfort and lack of amenities and lively things somehow. Also, the privacy is wonderful. One doesn't really meet one's neighbors very much.

It does get lonesome when Kevin is gone, particularly on the nights he comes late from school. It is a pity how long of a commute he has, and I will relish the day when we can move to a nicer neighborhood with a closer commute, but for now this seems like a good place to dream for a while, and to spend the first year of marriage together.