The Shoebox Attacks!

For as much as I complain about the shoebox apartment, I've generally accepted that we will probably stay here for the rest of law school. It's less expensive than most other places (at least in DC proper), it's in a nice neighborhood, fairly close to school, and is generally habitable. I haven't seen a single cockroach or other vermin while living here, and I am very grateful for that.

However. In the past month or so, we have lost electricity for almost a full day, twice. We've also lost hot water a few times, including today.

I really don't expect miracles from this place. I can deal with the occasional wafting scent of cigarettes. I've accepted the occasional moans of conjugal bliss that pass through our walls. I can find fun shapes in the peeling paint. I'm less afraid of the bathroom now. Some quirks have almost grown on me. I'm not horribly prissy or picky, I swear.

But I do have basic standards. More than a few hours with out internet and I get twitchy. When night falls I appreciate not trying to make my way about the apartment using a few tealights that are much better suited for ambient lighting than the practical. Quickly opening and slamming the fridge shut to avoid cold air leaking out and food spoiling doesn't make mealtime very fun.

But above all, do not mess with my nice, long, hot showers. I relish those 10 minutes of sinking back into the steam and letting go. They make me human. Trying to jump in and out of an ice-cold stream, staying just long enough to get most of the soap off is just not the same. Boiling pots of water for the saddest, shallowest bath ever is also not acceptable.

I don't want to deal with finding a new place to live. I don't want to deal with moving. I promise shoebox, I want to make this work. Be good to me, and I'll be good to you. But I warn you, one more strike in the next week, and I'm out of here. Got it?