i wake up and want to start over. a cyclical bi-monthly feeling. this is it. garbage bags out. before i even have time to wash my face or brush my teeth or pour a coffee furniture is moving, things are being thrown out and the art is being pulled off of the walls. i hate this place.
everyone else is sitting with their families on sectional sofa’s in a semi-detached picture of perfect before they mow the lawn on a saturday and here i am moving around the same hand me down table and chairs that i loathed upon arrival. hours pass. coffee is made. dirty and exhausted i start scrubbing. everything at once until it is all done feeling like it is someone else’s dirt, years of it and then myself.
warm clean clothes and luke warm coffee as a reward. i don’t need that life, i have this life. these classic books perfectly organized, reimagined art spaces giving hope to overpainted but now opposite walls – this new layout is perfection, a new place. i now am back in love with this apartment.
waking up to my fifth floor apartment, bleach aroma, yesterday’s cold coffee in the carafe and the same table and chairs in the corner. i hate this place.
– 39
the30years 