Monday, September 15, 2014

A girl from B-11

Recently a girl I've never met decided to stop and say hello as I was rolling up to my apartment complex. Must be a neighbor- I thought. I couldn't even tell you how many people from my building I recognize and nod politely and I see everyday. I don't know their names or anything about them, but sometimes I exchange a sentence or two on the weather, something the landlord has or hasn't done or how the Gators performed. It would have been embarrassing to introduce myself  at that point, so we continue to smile and nod and wish each other a great day or passing each other by the mailbox. An hour or two later the girl saw me again and decided to acknowledge the fact that isn't this a funny coincidence, we seem to be bumping into each other all day. A lot of people seemed to be walking back and forth between the parking lot and the building, so then it occurred to me it must be the move in day. Although I have been moving quite a lot within my apartment complex over the last five years, it's been a while since I had to go to a place that it's new to me entirely and pay attention to such dates. To some people this happens every year. As I got into my phase and started making my way to my door on the other side of the grass, the girl that I didn't know stopped me again. They were just bringing in her belongings. Her friends, her parents and some other people were to help out and they all came outside to introduce themselves to me, as if I was a friend of hers that goes way back and has interesting story to tell, rather than someone she just met that day. But that's not the funniest part. She was moving into my old apartment. Well, not the one I just moved out of,  that would be too strange. but the one I lived before that. The tiny, tiny studio. The place - that were we unloaded all my packed up belongings in trashbags piling  them up, they still took up three quarters of the floor. A place that has more of a kitchenette than an actual kitchen (although it did have a refrigerator). Very little counter space- put away any appliance if you want to plug in anything else kind of a place. A kitchen so narrow that they had to remove the sliding door obn the left side for me to get by in a wheelchair. I don't even know if you can call it a kitchen. As you went in, the stove was on your right, but your clothes closet was on the left. Yup, my suits used to hang in the kitchen. Not to mention that the "closet" wasn't big in the first place and I've had a lot hard time figuring out where to store everything else. I remember having bad raisers and boxes sliding from beneath my bed just to get a bit more room. I remember my parents were shocked I would choose to live in a place so tiny, and then spent three weeks putting shelves on every wall imaginable so I can put my things away. We've also had a hard time fitting my portable washer and dryer and my had to make the stand more compact my cutting a lot of the metal. I'd say it'll be hard for anyone to live in a space that small and not feel cramped.  At least if you have any belongings at all. But then I was in a wheelchair, so building large bookshelves all the way to the ceiling was not an option for me. As I left them they we getting excited about wooden floors. I'd say, no matter how shiny they may be or what color you pain the wall, there's still only one window that doesn't give much light and the room is tiny, which you only realize more when you put the furniture in. I hope she's still as excited about that place when she moves out. I know I couldn't live there.... again.

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