On the corner of South and West Street is a large purple and blue house. The paint’s chipped in some spots (some meaning most). And this old lady of a house is split into two apartments. If you want to see my apartment, make sure you are extra careful going up the crumbling cement steps.
The first thing you see upon opening the door is a box of shoes that we don’t wear, but of course we’re such pack rats that we want to keep them. Then there’s a crate of old bubbles and bubble wands, and right above that a crate of wood and not pointy or sharp tools.
Shooting up next to the crates is a dust covered shelf with all our random outdorsey stuff, bug spray, potting soil, ect. On the top, its got some more random stuff, like old pens, an owl bank, and a sticky spot that makes your hand smell if you touch it.
Just beyond that is the door to the basement. The stairs creek and feel as if they’ll break with every step you take. When you reach the bottom you’re met with a cold dank feel, that makes your skin crawl, then add in the faint smell of the cat box makes the basement an incredibly uncomfortable place.
To the left is the path to the washer and dryer and some of our useless junk. As you pivot to the right you see two water heaters and two heaters. Further to the right are the broken bikes, and then back a bit more is the smoky smell of my sister’s old hang up space.
Even though I live in an “apartment” I have an attic and a basement. The attic has the distinct smell of paint and dust, cigarette smoke, and glue. It’s my dad’s art space, and our random excess storage unit-which is slowly getting emptied out into a real storage unit. My dad’s about the only one allowed in the attic.
The entrance to the attic is through my parents’ room, very close to the entrance of the bathroom. Next to the bathroom door is my dad’s dresser, covered with my dad’s random nick-nacks and toys-yes my dad likes toys, he’s just…awesome like that. Then there’s the closet, with the painful and ugly shoes, and dress clothes we don’t wear even on dress-up occasions. On the next wall is my mom’s dresser-covered by jewelry boxes, and jewelry.
Next to the desk is a TV that doesn’t work covered with a white doily to make it look pretty. Next to that is my mom’s night stand with her random magazines and ash tray on it. Then the giant very comfortable bed, with only my dad’s pillows on it-my mom snores really loud and all night, so she sleeps on the couch. Then there’s my dad’s night stand, with his art notebooks, magazines and ashtrays.
The bathroom is huge for a bathroom. When the house was a whole house it wasn’t a bathroom. It often reminds me of a four star sized but one star accomidation bathroom, with a Lysol, Febreeze, Coming from my parents room the first thing you see is my sister’s dresser, which is currently overrun with laundry, and her random jewelry, Then the monstrosity of a laundry pile slowly melding with hers.
To your right is our other cluttered black shelf, this one holding not outdoor stuff, but bathroom “necessities”. There’s a bucket of hair brushes, a box of hair ties and scrunches, various lotions, different shampoos, and deodorants. Just beyond that is the toilet, then the marbely, glittery sink. Across from that’s the shower, with a sealing so bad it isn’t good for a bath or a shower.
The living room is messy, it usually is, but this is a whole new level of messy. Boxes are stacked everywhere, and the whole room stinks of cigarette smoke-which is totally screwed up because my mom said they weren’t going to smoke in there anymore.
The walls are an ugly white-that always feel slightly sticky-that my dad covered with his abnormally large paintings of dead flowers and the fair. Under the painting of the fair is two lazy boy recliners, a pink and a blue. The pink one is covered with boxes, and inside the boxes are our two cats. The blue one is my dad’s favorite so we keep that one clear.
On the next wall over-under the lilies-is our floral couch, which covers almost that entire wall. There’s a small space that the couch doesn’t cover, and that’s the art and random junk closet, which is always three or four degrees extreme to the temperature outside.
Directly out from that is the card table that we’re using as a laundry table, and then the monitor stand, and the computer desk. Continuing down the row of electronic goodies there’s the VCR and then the mini entertainment system with the mini TV on it. Next to that is the bookcase with movies on it, not books.
The kitchen is not a good cooking kitchen. The stove’s crap and barely works, and is the green stand next to it is always covered in sticky dust stuff. There isn’t enough counter space for anything more than the dishes. But the fridge is somewhat new. The microwave is second hand and is missing its open button.
Last but not least is my room, which I unfortunately share with my big sister. Standing in the door way with the fan on, the smell hits you almost like a taste, it’s the combo smell of acrylic paint and mud. It’s not a clean room.
The first thing you see is my green trunk hidden in a mound of semi clean laundry. Then there’s my bed with two feather pillows and two cotton ones. Just above it is my pink chandelier-which it’s a chandelier, its awesome enough to ignore the fact that it’s pink.
Next to my bed is my computer desk, which has my disconnected computer on it and my art supplies and band hat. I’m not sure what’s all inside, I haven’t had the chance to go though it after we moved it from the living room to my room. Then there’s my brown dresser with my random crap on it. On the wall next to my dresser is the unusable wall lamp, with my tie hanging off of it.
On the floor across my dresser is my sister’s trunk, which is at the foot of her bed. She only has three cotton pillows on her bed, but a giant purple comforter. Next to her bed she has a mini dresser, with her cell phone charger and various pencils on it. I don’t even want to begin to imagine what’s on the inside. Then there’s the door to leave the room.
On the corner of South and West Street is a large purple and blue house, which is split into two apartments. If you want to see my apartment, make sure you can do some amazing acrobatics to avoid stepping on one of its many mouths and falling, it’s not a kind fall in either direction, trust me I’d know. After all, I’ve lived here for eight years, I should know my way around it by now.
