Combination Rooms
Lucy is sitting next to me in the combination dining room/den watching me eat cold French fries off a paper plate. I lazily push the ketchup across the plate. How did I get here? In the poorly lit combination dining room/den? She is making these loud sniffing noises. She is sniffing the food, but she is working hard to get my attention. I'm not fooled. I know what she's doing. She wants the fries. She will pace the combination dining room/den and return. She will sneak under the table and lick my foot. I have never wanted a French fry bad enough to lick someone's foot while they sit in their combination dining room/den.
Part of the charm of an apartment is the combination rooms. My daughter is in the combination kitchen/foyer/hallway bagging the trash. The noise of the rustling garbage stopped Lucy from licking my foot. She is seeking another opportunity to forage. Relief. I'll eat another fry.
Apartment living was great when I was single. All of the things that I did in my twenties now annoy the hell out of me. The smallness, the socks in the floor, food left out on the laminate counter top. I don't even think it's real laminate.
I eat another fry. I am now making a smiley face with the ketchup. The smiley face is laughing at me. I rub it out with a new fry.
I remember my first apartment. It was great. The flashing of the lights from the cop cars, the arguments of the neighbors heard through the paper thin walls, the drunks laughing in the parking lot at 3 in the morning. I thought that I was living the good life. I couldn't afford it. It broke me. I was so broke that I couldn't enjoy amenities like mustard. I couldn't afford mustard! I was so broke that I once put 37 cents worth of gas in my truck so that I could drive to the drug store and buy a case of Milwaukee's Best Light with an American Express Card. You know the good life.
I guess that I'm getting old. I tell myself that 48 is the new 30, but it feels more like 70. I don't think that we will ever move into our new house. I keep my hopes up, but each time I trip over the dog gate in the combination hallway/laundry room my hope fades a little. Maybe there isn't any charm in the combination rooms after all. By the way, the dog gate is there to keep Lucy and Charlie contained to the combination dining room/den. It has better access to my pee pad escape on the combination porch/storage area/cigar oasis.
An apartment is great when you're in your twenties and single. I only remember the parties, the great friends, the cheap beer, and the good times. I don't remember having a dog eating her own poop while you try to smoke a cigar that costs more than a case of Milwaukee's Best Light. For the record, they're lying. I have since learned that it is not the "Best" beer that Milwaukee has to offer.
Maybe we are conditioned to only remember the good things. maybe it wasn't so great then and maybe it's not so bad now. Oh hell, it's that bad now. I wish that there was a Snapchat filter that would smooth out the wrinkles of our current situation. A filter that would make the combination bathroom/closet look appealing to the Social Media World. There is no filter that would make Milwaukee's Best Light a tasteful beverage option.
Here' the thing that I am learning. Maybe God is teaching me that places and things aren't important. It's family that matters the most.
I ate all of the fries. I hope that the family that matters the most to me didn't want any. If they do, I'll make more and leave them out on the laminate counter top next to the mustard Over Yonder.
Part of the charm of an apartment is the combination rooms. My daughter is in the combination kitchen/foyer/hallway bagging the trash. The noise of the rustling garbage stopped Lucy from licking my foot. She is seeking another opportunity to forage. Relief. I'll eat another fry.
Apartment living was great when I was single. All of the things that I did in my twenties now annoy the hell out of me. The smallness, the socks in the floor, food left out on the laminate counter top. I don't even think it's real laminate.
I eat another fry. I am now making a smiley face with the ketchup. The smiley face is laughing at me. I rub it out with a new fry.
I remember my first apartment. It was great. The flashing of the lights from the cop cars, the arguments of the neighbors heard through the paper thin walls, the drunks laughing in the parking lot at 3 in the morning. I thought that I was living the good life. I couldn't afford it. It broke me. I was so broke that I couldn't enjoy amenities like mustard. I couldn't afford mustard! I was so broke that I once put 37 cents worth of gas in my truck so that I could drive to the drug store and buy a case of Milwaukee's Best Light with an American Express Card. You know the good life.
I guess that I'm getting old. I tell myself that 48 is the new 30, but it feels more like 70. I don't think that we will ever move into our new house. I keep my hopes up, but each time I trip over the dog gate in the combination hallway/laundry room my hope fades a little. Maybe there isn't any charm in the combination rooms after all. By the way, the dog gate is there to keep Lucy and Charlie contained to the combination dining room/den. It has better access to my pee pad escape on the combination porch/storage area/cigar oasis.
An apartment is great when you're in your twenties and single. I only remember the parties, the great friends, the cheap beer, and the good times. I don't remember having a dog eating her own poop while you try to smoke a cigar that costs more than a case of Milwaukee's Best Light. For the record, they're lying. I have since learned that it is not the "Best" beer that Milwaukee has to offer.
Maybe we are conditioned to only remember the good things. maybe it wasn't so great then and maybe it's not so bad now. Oh hell, it's that bad now. I wish that there was a Snapchat filter that would smooth out the wrinkles of our current situation. A filter that would make the combination bathroom/closet look appealing to the Social Media World. There is no filter that would make Milwaukee's Best Light a tasteful beverage option.
Here' the thing that I am learning. Maybe God is teaching me that places and things aren't important. It's family that matters the most.
I ate all of the fries. I hope that the family that matters the most to me didn't want any. If they do, I'll make more and leave them out on the laminate counter top next to the mustard Over Yonder.
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