We moved in on Sunday, June 22. I walked in and was immediately disappointed. In comparison to our cute, light-filled, full of character house in Cleveland, this apartment was brown. Brown trim, brown carpet, brown cabinets brown interior doors. It was dark inside even though it was a sunny day, and when we first walked in, the breaker had been flipped off so we had to search for it to turn the power on again so we could see. It felt small and dark and I hated it.
I turned to Carson with tears in my eyes (the stress of moving brings on lots of emotions and we loved Cleveland so much) and said "we can't live here. We have to find another place to live."
It felt too small, too dark, too brown.
The furniture came in, pictures went up on the walls, and it began to look like a home very quickly because my parents came down to help us set up.
At the end of their time, I began to see that while it was too dark and too brown, it was otherwise pretty good. The darkness kept it cool during the day (cha-ching), there was no creepy basement to walk into to do laundry, it was well insulated, it had two bathrooms (one for each of us, and yes, Carson used the guest bathroom), it had great counter space and great cabinet space, a pantry, a tiny covered porch in the back, and a fireplace and mantel I really liked.
And well, now we don't live there anymore. We moved the last of our things out on July 27, and suddenly our apartment no longer looked like it belonged to us. It was bare and generic and brown, though I guess the latter had never changed. We no longer had a stamp on it and it was as it we'd never lived there.
It's been a good 25 months in little old apartment B. We've had lots of visitors, discovered the fun of redoing furniture, and done a lot of growing in this little apartment. I'm thankful for this place and it's low rent, great layout, and ability to save money on cooling it off. I still don't love how dark it is, but that's not a huge deal in reality. Thanks for the memories, apartment B!