Bandages on my legs and my arms for you

So we recently moved from one Chicago ’hood to another. And in exchange for leaving a neighborhood governed by the Latin Jivers (a gang of teenage boys) for a section of the city overrun with baby strollers and YPs (young professionals) we had to give up A LOT of apartment perks, LIKE:

In-unit laundry. I now have to hoof it down a flight of stairs to a dingy basement where the washer costs $1 (until it breaks, according to our landlord) and spiders are EVERYWHERE! I hate those creepy bastards (the spiders, not my landlords).* By the way, does anyone know how to break a washer so I can do my laundry for free like at our old place?

A walk-in closet. Do I sound spoiled? Probably. But my last apartment had a walk-in closet that was about the size of my new bedroom! In fact, it was so big that I didn’t realize how much stuff I had actually accumulated over the last three years because I always had room for more. I do have to say, it did feel quite liberating to get rid of a truckload of crap because it wouldn’t fit in my new child-sized bedroom. But after 2 weeks in this new apartment I’d take a walk-in closet over liberated in a heartbeat!

A sleeping arrangement that doesn’t make me want to rip my hair out. My new room is so small that to fit my dresser, I had to turn the bed sideways. This leaves only one side of the bed open, with the other three butting up against a wall. Kind of like this, but my setup isn't as cute and airy looking since there isn't a window right above the bed. The jankiness of it all, I could deal with. But Dan has this THING where he has to sleep on the outside of the bed, always, with the fan blowing ON HIS FACE. Such a pampered boy, right? This was fine at our old apartment, because my bed had space on each side of it so I didn’t feel like I was sleeping on “the inside”. Not anymore! Twice so far, I’ve woken up sandwiched between the wall and an almost coma-like fiance after a fit of sleep-cuddling. I’ve then had to throw what feels like a giant bear arm off of me to keep from freaking out!

But the claustrophobia isn’t even the worst part of our new sleeping arrangement. It’s the bruising.

You see, to get out of bed and turn off my phone alarm, I have to physically shimmy over Dan and out of the bed, without hitting his currently sprained ankle, and arms outstretched, zombie walk my way over to my dresser where my phone is tethered to the only outlet in the room! Now imagine doing this at 6 am, in the dark, after a fitful night of half-sleep because the wall is just too goddamn close. And then maybe you’ll understand why I’ve got more than a few bruises on my legs from running into things or falling off the bed as I’m trying to get out of it.

HGTV, I could really use a spot on one of your shows. Maybe send that really cute gay designer, David something, to my house to help me organize my room and remedy this situation. I’ve already got a title for the episode “Help, I’ve fallen because my fiancé needs a fan on his face!”

*Okay, I haven’t actually seen a spider because I’m too afraid to go down in the basement and do laundry, but our upstairs neighbor warned us about them! And as soon as I run out of underwear, I’m SURE I’ll see one!