This Old House

Despite my various associations with Bob Vila, and my great admiration for Martha Stewart's domestic skills, I think either individual would die a little inside if they had to spend a week in my apartment.  Half our stuff is still boxed up, because there is no place to put anything.  Moreover, it just feels so pointless to unpack things that don't have a specific and regular utility when they will just have to be repacked in 3 more months.  Hence, there is very little going on here, style wise. 

Beyond the aesthetics, there are the neighbors.  Where to start.  The guy upstairs.  Let's start with that, because quite frankly, he never stops.  His bedroom is right above ours, and his bed seems to be directly above our bed.  The past month or two, he has been spending an increasing amount of time with a lady friend.  Their favorite activities appear to be furiously copulating, driving somewhere to get takeout food, and thundering back up the stairs to inhale a pile of greasy slop in order to fuel another round.  And another.  And another.  This would probably go unnoticed if his bed didn't produce a sound not unlike a hippopotamus bouncing on a rusty trampoline while gripping a bucket of loose change in its maw.  And it would be forgivable if it didn't happen at bizarre hours on a constant basis.

Then there are the children.  They are everywhere, and they are wild.  We have three very tall windows in the bedroom.  The sills are at mid-shin height, and Ajax loves to sit on one particular window sill.  To keep him from destroying the blinds in that window, we keep them raised to about mid-thigh height at all times.  Still low enough for plenty of privacy, riiight?  Wroooong.  Apparently I wasn't taking into consideration the fact that children might one day decide to crouch outside my window with their faces pressed against the screen, peering into my bedroom.  I walked into the bedroom with an armload of laundry and discovered this juvenile bed intruder who had just caused Ajax to beat a hasty retreat in sheer terror.

Clearly, I need to hide my cat and hide my husband, because they are visually raping everybody out here.  Thank god I had pants on, because, when I believe I am safe in the privacy of my own home, I am often missing some article of clothing or other that would be required for public decency.  A few minutes later, believing I had scared the kid away, I was in the process of taking my pants off when he returned.  What gives?

But I digress.  It's time to share some pictures.  A showcase of minimalism, with a few pretty things to break up the austerity.  Austerity just sounds so much more dignified than squalor, don't you think?

Not going to lie, this bathroom vanity is one of my favorite things about the apartment.  Totally 70's, and complements our goldenrod colored bathtub, goldenrod wall tiles, and array of cream, tan, and goldenrod floor tiles beautifully.  Kinda makes you feel like a rapper - surrounded by gold, even whilst poopin'.

Bedspread, or, giant sheet I bought on clearance from Urban Outfitters a few years ago.  The prettiness really made up for the fact that our mattress was on the floor from June until about a month ago.  The night stand peeking out of the corner of the picture is an old hard-shell suitcase.  It weighs about 8 thousand pounds and has no wheels.  Andy should be thankful for modern luggage, or he'd be schlepping my heavy junk all over the place when we travel (more so than he already does, to give credit where credit is due, I suppose).

Without the sheet, this is just a pile of boxes (nerdily enough, these boxes contain 90% books).  With the sheet, it's mysterious.  There could be ANYTHING under there.  You have no idea.  And you know you like the bright orange Wawa crate peeking out from the bottom.

Big comfy couch.  Seriously, it's a good couch.  Fits well with the minimalist/retro vibe we seem to be curating here.

More old stuff.  This dresser came out of my dad's apartment.  I don't know if it's actually an antique but it seems pretty old.  Once it stopped reeking of cigarettes, I've really enjoyed having it around.

Random found/decorated things, and a non-working wall clock.  Who cares what time it is, anyway?

My spot. 

I'm still not quite over the novelty of having a table.  We spent far too long eating meals on an end table.  Better than nothing, but it was an awkward height.  This Ethan Allen table (from the 70's, of course) is on loan to us, and the fine folks who lent it to us described it quite succinctly:  "A few years ago, this table was 'junk' but now it's 'mid-century'."  Whatever, I like it, and it gets the job done.  I'm also digging the current bounty of this fruit bowl.  I got a little over-zealous in the produce department yesterday when this picture was taken.

The only other decorations we have out.  Bleak print of boats in a harbor, cats on the right, and some Easter swag on the left.  I don't really care about Easter, but the knick-knack on the far left has Peanuts characters on it, and the other thing is a bunny.  I'm pretty sure I get a pass for cuteness here, because it makes up for the pile of mystery under a sheet that lies directly to the left of this scene.

We also have a sick shower curtain, but I got a little lazy and forgot to take a picture of it.  It's a giant vinyl reproduction of Hokusai's 'The Great Wave off Kanagawa' print.  My mom randomly found it somewhere for $2 a couple years ago, and it's the greatest.  If you've seen my back, it's no secret that this is my favorite work of art.  Not the most original preference, but I've loved it since I was a little kid.  Does that make me pompous or pretentious?  I mean, I liked it before it was cool, so clearly, that legitimizes my preference and makes me better, right?


And thus concludes our tour.  If you are lucky enough to live in a fully furnished, fully assembled, non-temporary living space devoid of nymphomaniacs and junior KGB officers, go hug your china cabinet (or whatever kind of furniture civilized people have).