My new roommate, Jack, has officially owned his condo for three weeks now, and neither of us is living there yet. My excuse is that I don’t want to start staying there until Jack does, and Jack’s excuse is that he doesn’t want to start staying there until all of my crap is out of his living room and put away.
The problem is that I went from a larger bedroom with a massive closet and two kitchen closets that I entirely claimed as my own–one of which was slightly larger than an entire studio apartment–to a smaller bedroom with a smaller closet, a shared closet just inside the front door, and a linen closet that’s technically in Jack’s bedroom but he’s being kind enough to share.
If Jack and I were renting the place as equals, I would absolutely kick him out of both closets, fill them with all of my tchotchkes, and take over the bigger bedroom while I was at it. But since he owns the place and I’m just his tenant, I feel like I have to defer to him when he says I have to keep my Avenging Unicorn Playset from Kamran and The Birds Barbie from Tracey out of plain view.
See, Jack’s apartment is very modern, and he’s keeping the decor chic and sleek. When he asked me, for instance, if I had any magnets for the refrigerator, I took it as an invitation to gleefully slap my 6″ Dick and Jane likenesses and the homemade Tracey and Katie photomagnets Tracey gave me when I moved into my last apartment four years ago all over his new appliances. But it turns out he was just asking in order to prepare himself for what I might try to fight for. Luckily, only the sides of the brushed metal refrigerator are magnetic, so he can hide most of my transgressions while making me feel as if I’m leaving my imprint on the place.
To be fair, he did allow me to put my bookcase in the living room and has so far not said a word about the things I’ve put on it. I’m not sure he’s seen my jar of plastic pickles or my Penis Pokey book, though.
12 Comments
Oooh, living with the landlord can be rough. Don’t back down. Fight the good fight!
Jack is upset that I made him look like a meanie in front of you. So I will add that he also let me put the weird bedpan-shaped dish full of pink potpourri that a cousin gave to me for Christmas last year on the windowsill in the living room. That’s a major concession for someone who owns no fewer than 10 Jack Daniels t-shirts.
Perhaps if you kept, say, the Birds Barbie in its original box, you could keep it on display because it’s an appreciating investment, destined to make you loads of cash on E-Bay one day.
Just don’t let him see you playing with it.
Not a problem. All my Barbies ever did was grind on each other, and that’d be pretty unsexy with all of those plastic birds attached to the poor girl.
It’s official:
You have the coolest toys.
You win.
Hey, I haven’t even mentioned my burger phone yet. Jack reeeeeeeeeeally hates that one.
Also, while searching for an image of that, I came across this, which you obviously need.
I agree with MBG, so cool. But we knew that. :)
I sometimes think, “I should try to become an adult. I should throw out everything I own that’s polka-dotted or would be amusing to a 5-year-old.” But I can’t help liking kid stuff! So thank you for making me feel okay about it.
I love that Avenging Unicorn playset! I think I need one.
Agreed. One for you and one for the bebe.
I think you should add to the magnets and make it a complete “Katie and Tracey”-themed apartment. Set out your scrapbooks devoted to how awesome we are, decoupage pictures of us all over the walls, and install speakers that play our voices at all times. I’m imagining us singing “Run to the Hills” and the “little white box” song on a loop.
Actually, I kind of do want to buy an apartment just to be able to cover an entire wall with us and then shellac it to keep it there for life.
I wonder how much a life-size cutout of you would run me . . .