Home sweet home: our first apartment

Your first apartment is never perfect, but it's always home sweet home
Your first apartment is never perfect, but it’s always home sweet home
The hardwood and tile floors chill my feet in the morning. There’s essentially no storage space, except what we can jam into the laundry closet and under the bed. And we have an opera singer for a neighbor!

Alec and I finally arrived home in Durham a few days ago. We managed to settle in pretty quickly. Of course, it helped that Alec was already living here before I arrived. All we had to do was integrate my stuff with his. Not that it was an easy task, mind you: Alec and I have far too many clothes between the two of us. I wound up throwing out a whole trash bag of clothes in order to fit everything. (That’s one way to purge your wardrobe. Get married.)

Anyway, the apartment is certainly older, and it’s certainly got its issues, but I love this place nonetheless. Maybe because it’s ours, maybe because it has character. Whatever it is, I’ll be sad to leave when our lease is up in a few months.

We have a record player and an afghan my grandmother made and a dish set from Italy, as well as two incredibly orange Ethan Allen chairs we found in a thrift store two months ago. Not to mention the stacks and stacks of books Alec and I both have.
The apartment already feels like home to me!

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