I’m moving into a new apartment sometime this week. It’s a larger unit, a one-bedroom versus a studio. Not only does this mean a separate sleeping area, but I get a nice ass kitchen to boot. I’m quite excited about this, the whole upgrade thing, for a variety of reasons.
For one, I get a nice ass kitchen to boot. I love cooking and baking, creating concoctions and whatnot with my blender, but in my studio, I literally only had one square area of work room. Sure, there were little areas on the edge of my galley kitchen, but not enough to keep a standing mixer, a blender, a coffee maker, and quesadilla maker on, not to mention my utensil stand and fruit plate.
In this new place, not only do I get ample counter space, but I get more cabinets and a bar area. A fucking. Bar. Granted, the sink is on the bar (the area in the actual kitchen, people), but I can always not fill it with ice for the parties that will not occur that will not have alcohol in bottles that don’t need to be kept cold.
The second reason why I can’t wait for this place is because of people. I’ll be able to have more people over for more non-existent parties with non-existent drinks and such. I’ll be able to have guys come over after dates and not be immediately greeted with my bedroom.
I guess the third reason is the most important one to me, but it’s significant of me changing as a person. It’s funny that this weekend and this… snap in me coincided with something that was going to happen anyway, but it’s wonderful that it did. This new apartment is going to be a change into a bigger, better world; it’s symbolizing me growing up and expanding my interests and abilities as a human.
I’m merely raving at this point, but I’m so excited about this place. It’s what I’ve wanted for so, so long…