Broke Into The Old Apartment

I lived at home during college (a commuter student) to save money and keep a car. After graduating, instead of getting an apartment with a college buddy, he also moved into my mom's house, paid a minimal rent, and we stayed there for a little while. I was fortunate enough to grow up in a pretty big house so we all had some privacy.

One day, I got a call from a friend who told me he needed to break the lease on his apartment, which would be very expensive, and had heard that if someone moved in and took over the lease, he wouldn't have to pay the penalty. I'd been thinking of getting my own place, so I said "sure, why not?" I'd get my own place and help a friend out at the same time.

Living in that apartment (I was there a little over 2 years) was one of the most fun times of my life. Now, make no mistake about it, I have no desire to return there as my present self, but I very much enjoy the recollection.

You see, my apartment had magical properties: If I dropped clothes on the floor by the next day they would magically still be there. This was something unheard of while living in my parents' house! I still remember the rush of waking up in the morning and seeing my jeans laying on the hallway floor. I remember creeping up on them. Gently poking them with a stick. Convinced of their reality, I picking them up, hugging them, and boldly threw them onto the kitchen floor where they remainded, joyously, until at least a week later.

Uncooked food stayed uncooked. Trash was not automatically taken out. The dishwasher neither populated nor vacated itself. The laundering process required manual intervention. The place was an adventureland. Far from the chides of my siblings on how I was in for a "reality" check, I absolutely loved it.

Why? Because it was done my way. I would rather live in my own mess than in someone else's clean.

Of course apartment gave way to townhouse, which gave way to single family home and cleaning is a larger task and one both my wife and I struggle with. But I often and fondly remember my managable apartment -- my first "domain".

I remember being impressed with a crappy sofa cover. I remember thinking I had fix-it skills because I could change the dirt-bag out of my vacuum cleaner. I remember thinking I was a cook because I could heat up pasta sauce (which I bought by the case-load) and Ramen noodles (and no, the two were not used together).

Company coming? Vacuum a single carpet, fix the sofa cover, light 2 candles and wah-lah...instant clean. Life was simpler during that time, on many levels. The more space we collect as we age, the more we have a desire to fill it. I got a new house, so I wanted to put more in it. I grew stronger, so I wanted to do more. I evolved emotionally, so I injected myself into many other lives and projects.

And one day, while juggling many items, I caught myself thinking back to my first, lone apartment where I could prepare for company by vacuuming once carpet, fixing one sofa cover, and lighting two candles.

As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler; solitude will not be solitude, poverty will not be poverty, nor weakness weakness.
Henry David Thoreau

I had trouble sleeping last night and drove past my old apartment today on the way to meet friends for lunch. One thing this blog has taught me (both in the chronicaling of projects and in the inability to blog because of projects) is that my life is utterly and unnecessarily complex. I know too many people (friends, family, coworkers and, most notably, myself) who replace real internal peace with avalanches of self-affirmation-seeking activity.

In the upcoming months I'm preparing for an emotional/spiritual/physical yard sale. 8)