(no subject)
To envision the place we are headed to:
Row after row of similar-looking structures. We're not terribly far from the pathway to the leasing office, nestled somewhere in the middle of the complex. Down the way, you can see the street; the other direction is blocked off by other buildings, and beyond them is a different complex entirely.
Throw open the door-- a staircase upwards, juking to the right after about ten feet upwards. To the right directly, the living room-- fairly squarish, rich brown carpeting. White walls, with that soft matted texture that makes them distinct. Head on through the living room and you'll see the first closet, both water heater and coats-- a hallway beyond yields first the washer-dryer hookup closet, then a half-bath, both on the left. Past this, the kitchen is on the right-- a space much larger than the one we have, with more than a yard's clearance on the floor, something where the oven door doesn't threaten to bang into the sink cabinets. Counter space, lots of it-- the idea of having space to prepare meals is a little thrilling, I'll admit. To the left is nominally a dining room area, though we'll be converting it to the roommate's office space-- it'll have a good-sized table his computer, his boxes, his books, the things he needs to not need to grade and write where he sleeps. The back door, nestled between both spaces, leads directly to the complex's pool-- the management was quite proud of their idea on Adult Swim, where the last hour is 18-up. He plans to do his laps there during the summer, no excuse if it's right there.
Backwards, up the stairs, making that right turn-- faced with three doors. To the right, the room I'll be occupying: south-facing, away from direct sunlight though always biased so that I'll get the lion's share. S'fine with me; sunlight helps me wake when I care to, and doesn't so much stop me from sleeping when I don't. Again, a little more squarish than the room I'm occupying now, perhaps more spacious-- hard to tell. Closet isn't as big as the one I've got now (can't stash a mattress in there), but it also won't be occupied by an air-conditioning system that enjoys nothing less than ejecting a steady stream of condensation after switching off. Turn around now, face north, you'll see a door on the left just past the stairwell-- the master bath. The major inconvenience we forsee with this is that it's adjacent to his room, the door to which is straight ahead. Two closets, much storage space, and hopefully all that he'll need to begin importing and condensing his materials.
I half-like it. I approve of it, for certain. I think it'll work quite nicely for our needs. But it'll take time for me to like it. The east side of town still feels like foreign territory to me, especially past the last major thoroughfare; it'll be time before I acclimate, feel free to wander as I do now, have the sense of home-turf advantage. Time I may not end up having, if next fall yields to me what I seek in a delicious grad school score, but time-- time, I suppose, I will have in a way that I didn't before.
So strange.