Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Why my nostalgia is your voyeurism. Have at it!

In packing up five years of accumulated paraphernalia, accouterments, knickknacks, bibelots, and gewgaws, I've found myself waxing nostalgic about leaving this place, my home. This apartment may be over 100 years old, but it's in great shape, and just oozes with character. It makes me even less excited to return to my parents' tiny and personality-less 1970's-era tract housing, however temporarily. Do my parents have a clawfoot bathtub or a stained glass window in the bathroom? I don't think so!

I'll miss you clawfoot bathtub.
I'll miss you, stained glass window.
I'll miss you, yellow striped wallpaper.
I'll miss you doors I found on an old entertainment center on the sidewalk.
I'll miss you exposed brick and blue wallpaper.
I'll miss you, miles of counter space. I will NOT miss you, space-wasting and non-functional trash compactor.
I'll miss you, peach striped couch and kitchen look-through.
I'll miss you, pink and purple porch swing, handmade for me on the occasion of my 25th birthday. We had some good times, but there's no room for a porch swing where I'm going.
I'll miss you, spacious and light-filled room. I'll miss you, three windows.
I'll miss you second room. That's right, I said second room. How interesting that in terms of space and scale, my city apartment kicks my parents' single family suburban home squarely in the rear. If I sound bitter or show-offy, I'm really not. It's just that my parents have lived in that same (crappy) house for the last thirty years, and I wish that they could see that there's more to life than living in a falling apart house twenty miles from the nearest movie theater or Thai restaurant. (I'm really excited to go back, can you tell?)

Also, I am glad I had the foresight to take these pics before I started packing and my room turned into this:

I'd also like to mention that these somewhat menacing twin towers of boxes are composed only of books. So, you know...Now I can start packing everything else. Whee.


  1. Can't wait to have you home again.

    - Mom and Dad

  2. Twenty miles from the nearest Thai restaurant!?!? That's some form of brutality. Seriously.

    You'll find your way to a civilization in short order, I'm sure.

  3. Twenty miles from the nearest Thai restaurant!?!? That's some form of brutality. Seriously.

    You'll find your way to a civilization in short order, I'm sure.

  4. Ooops. I really meant it if it got recorded twice.

  5. Your apartment was/is so super cute. I have zero decorating sense. If you ever decide to come to Texas and take up interior design, I will hire you for sure.

    Also, I like your new haircut.

  6. Yes, I am ungrateful wretch, thanks for pointing that out, Al.

    Dawn- The worst part is that I will be 20 miles from civilization and without a car. Ack! Unless my dad wants to lend me his pick-up truck. Oh, and teach me how to drive a stick-shift. Though we've tried that before and the results were...not pretty. I foresee rollicking good times this summer.

    Jane- Thanks! And thanks! I credit Craigslist for the first and, um, some random stylist I just met for the second.

  7. Oh, and I washed my hair this morning, undoing all my stylist's hard work, and, as predicted, it looks like shit today. Really, it was too good to be true anyway. It's 62 degrees and overcast in Boston, and my hair looks like shit. All is as it should be.

  8. Well... your apartment is tres chic and even though you can't take it all with you (I imagine it's not only the fabulous porch swing that's staying), at least take that four-picture window frame (those four pictures are terrific) to make the parental home feel more worldly.