I have an apartment now. Aren’t you proud? I am. I feel like I made it with my own two hands. I feel like I crawled toward it on my knees over broken glass. I feel like it’s probably much too expensive, and I no longer care. This is a crafty trick on the part of real estate brokers, who run you all over the city on the hottest goddamn day of the year in the hopes that you will cave and pick something. Well, I showed them. I slept on it, and then I picked something. Hmmm. Maybe that wasn’t quite the resounding victory I was hoping for.
BUT! The place is actually quite nice. The appliances are the size of normal human appliances, and the windows — for there are two of them, mind you, so wealthy and well-heeled am I — are large and are not facing a wall. As an extra added bonus, the parts of my bathroom all live together in — wait for it! — a little room of their own, which I like to call “the bathroom.” My, it’s all a person could hope for.