The Old Apartment

I’m… home?

I’m back in the old apartment in Evanston for the week. Lola’s been staying here when not traveling and visiting home in the Bay Area since her new job is technically based out of Chicago. But now her travel has died down for the rest of the year, so I’ll be coming out here for one week a month for a little while.

It’s a little weird to be “home.”

This condo was the first place I lived on my own, no roommate. It was the first home I bought. Even though I got in pretty late last night, I couldn’t stop myself from walking around the place and remembering how it felt to walk through here the first time. The similarity is deepened by the fact that Lola and I don’t want to accumulate too much stuff in this place, so it basically looks how it did when I first moved in.

For example: the floor. When I got the place, before the full move, I decided to change the things that I would never be able to change once furniture was in. I had the carpet taken out of the main room and put in a hardwood floor, for my allergies. I didn’t have enough cash on hand to really do the full apartment though, so the bedroom is still stock. My allergies have been going full blast since last night. Thanks a lot, past me. Wish I could loan you some dough. The floor used to be pretty white, but over 5 years in the sun, it has seasoned into a nice toastier color.

I've always been a little nuts about this floor.

Some things are different: my renter put in some light fixtures while he was here, which is nice because it means those light switches actually do stuff now. When I lived here, I just made do with a mish mash collection of floor lamps gathered over the years (some of which still light the apartment in Mountain View).

The main difference is the lack of all my stuff. Lola and I currently have a bunch of donated kitchenware / bedding from my parents, a few clothes, a bed and a TV (sitting on an Amazon box). We’re basically living in the bedroom only. It’s sort of like being back in a dorm room, sans desk. I miss having a table / couch / frickin’ Rock Band in the living room: the old place just isn’t the same without ‘em. I have a feeling we’re going to be eating out with friends most of the nights I’m here anyway so I don’t think we’re going to need a table and chairs or anything. Like I said, we don’t want to put much into the condo because Lola’s not here that much. And yet: I’m a creature of comfort: I don’t know if I can handle not having at least a futon or something out there.

Anyway, still processing being back here in Evanston. It’s only been a couple hours. I was about to say something like “part of me never left,” but that’s not true at all. I’m thinking back to the last day I closed this door, after the movers had gone, the last time I saw this place so empty. I definitely made the right decision to move out west when I did. So thanks again, past me. I forgive you for the floor thing.

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