obligatory my-new-apartment-rocks post

So my new apartment rocks. It came with no less than everything I could've asked for, and several tings besides. Not least among these are:
a bed, a mattress, pillows, coverings for the aforementioned in abundance;
pots, pans, dishes, silver- and woodenware in every shape and size as I shall ever have need for;
electronics, including a television and a rice cooker;
an A/C, a heater, and a fan;
closet space enough to reenact the Tale-Tell Heart without the messy business of cutting into the floor;
a writing desk with accompanying chair;
two leather chairs of bucket variety;
a bookshelf;
a Japanese-style bath;
yellow curtains and faux-glass spikey plastic light coverings so every morning streams in with a definite 1973 vibe;
an upside-down carpet because the rightside-up part's all vomity;
a microwave and toaster oven;
a shoe shelf;
and a glass-topped coffee table.

My word. Though Moriya's not much to look at, I dare say I've lucked myself right outta here. Especially the writing desk part. My Shin-Matsudo place had no Western-style chairs so everything was at ground level, and since I haven't got the well-developed back muscles of the Japanese I usually found myself slouching in such a way as to provoke sleep quickly and easily, and it was shit for writing. Now much morningtime will be devoted to fictions and business models and plans and schemes of every sort. O how the schemes will come.

In other news, being a fish must be terrifying. It's no way to live a life; no, not at all.

1 comment:

Serge said...

Sounds like really nice digs. At least, everything but the vomity carpet and the cockroaches.