That First Place
We are heading north soon to visit our daughter and her boyfriend in Minneapolis. They are moving into a new apartment near the Vikings stadium and we will be helping them move some of the larger items with our van. I miss her dearly, so it should be a chance to reconnect and see her new digs.
She sent a few pictures of her place and it looks spectacular. It made me think of my first apartment and that incredible feeling of pride and excitement with having my own place - even if I was sharing it with a roommate.
That first apartment is a feeling of "having arrived." School is finished, you have a decent job - or at least decent enough to afford a place to live - and your obligations are few. I can remember that first Christmas in my first dumpy apartment. My roommate was gone and I had the place to myself. I shut off the lights and just sat there in the dark with the single string of twinkling lights thinking, "It ain't much, but man, it's all mine." After that first full time job, this was my first real taste of adulting.
The place was a cookie cutter 2 bedroom apartment in New Hope, Minnesota, a suburb of Minneapolis. It was on a busy street and was a drafty old place. Because it only had one thermostat and I preferred to sleep with my door closed, my room got downright frosty in those cold Minnesota winters. My roommate was a guy I worked with and I think rent was $400/month each.
Now, the fact that it was nothing special, didn't mean we didn't entertain people. At the time, I worked second shift, so we sometimes had some of the second shifters over after work. We'd have a few beers and listen to music. It is hard to recall a time when I felt more free.
But like all good things, it went south when my roommate got a job out in California. Before we moved out, we had a party to say goodbye to our little rat-hole. We packed the place and spun records and had some beers. There was dancing, and spilling and shenanigans. It was all very bohemian, but I wouldn't trade a second of it.
So while I am sure my daughter's place will be a much more respectable abode, I DO know the feeling she and her boyfriend are feeling. They are picking up some used furniture and filling in the gaps where they can. Their landlord is a eco-conscious guy who sounds super cool.
Everyone has a story about moving out on their own. It is where we begin carving our way.
And it is fun to be helping my kids do it now too.
Blogging off...
She sent a few pictures of her place and it looks spectacular. It made me think of my first apartment and that incredible feeling of pride and excitement with having my own place - even if I was sharing it with a roommate.
That first apartment is a feeling of "having arrived." School is finished, you have a decent job - or at least decent enough to afford a place to live - and your obligations are few. I can remember that first Christmas in my first dumpy apartment. My roommate was gone and I had the place to myself. I shut off the lights and just sat there in the dark with the single string of twinkling lights thinking, "It ain't much, but man, it's all mine." After that first full time job, this was my first real taste of adulting.
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| Living Room Ballroom |
The place was a cookie cutter 2 bedroom apartment in New Hope, Minnesota, a suburb of Minneapolis. It was on a busy street and was a drafty old place. Because it only had one thermostat and I preferred to sleep with my door closed, my room got downright frosty in those cold Minnesota winters. My roommate was a guy I worked with and I think rent was $400/month each.
Now, the fact that it was nothing special, didn't mean we didn't entertain people. At the time, I worked second shift, so we sometimes had some of the second shifters over after work. We'd have a few beers and listen to music. It is hard to recall a time when I felt more free.
But like all good things, it went south when my roommate got a job out in California. Before we moved out, we had a party to say goodbye to our little rat-hole. We packed the place and spun records and had some beers. There was dancing, and spilling and shenanigans. It was all very bohemian, but I wouldn't trade a second of it.
 |
| My roommate shakes a leg without spilling. |
So while I am sure my daughter's place will be a much more respectable abode, I DO know the feeling she and her boyfriend are feeling. They are picking up some used furniture and filling in the gaps where they can. Their landlord is a eco-conscious guy who sounds super cool.
Everyone has a story about moving out on their own. It is where we begin carving our way.
And it is fun to be helping my kids do it now too.
Blogging off...
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