To Infinity and the Bedroom

Just a heads up to everyone before you start reading this, the dishwasher will not be discussed in this post. The main reason being that I have yet to figure out its mysterious ways.

However, due to this weekends events I have been reminded of the biggest transition of going from an apartment to a house, the space. I ended up in a room this weekend about the same size as my old bed room in Brooklyn, 6 feet by 9 feet, and that’s when it came to mind that this had to be posted.

When you live in an apartment, especially one with only two bedrooms and six people, the little amount of walking space you have seems tremendous. It’s almost as though that Manhattan thought of “build up” gets ingrained into your brain when you design any room.

It isn’t until you upsize to a room double the size of what you had that you realize, “Wow, I have a lot of stuff.” Then again George Carlin always said, “A house is just a place to keep your stuff, while you go out and get more stuff.” Notice he never once said apartment, only house. Believe it or not its true.

While living in an apartment you don’t care about your things because the hottest commodity is empty square footage, well that and a door with a lock.

However, in this house I have sacrificed windows, current bedroom count at zero, for an extra 100 square feet. Then like that “build up” mentality suggests, after the queen sized bed, futon, four dressers, closet, washer, dryer, coffee table, and computer desk; the widest walkway is two feet wide, and it feels huge.

Where was all this stuff going in that tiny 6×9 room? How did  it all in an Elantra? Why is there still so much room in this bedroom? Why is there a yard in the front and back of this place that aren’t made of cement? (Yes I am a veteran of the sidewalk backyard.)

These are all questions that anyone who has, is, or will ever go through this transition will ask themselves at one point or another. The answers can only be found after you’ve gone back to that 6×9 bedroom with a bunk-bed for a night and then they become clear:

1. It was stacked to the ceiling.

2. You didn’t buy the bed until after you moved here. (D’oh)

3.  There is an extra 100 square feet.

4. It’s called a backyard and frontyard. Stop complaining and go play tag.

Those are the simple answers and simple is always better. That’s where I’ll leave you until next week, and Adam is starting to get mad about my lack of dish cleaning so hopefully I can get that dishwasher down for you soon. Until next time keep roaming around that four bedroom maze.

A Home Without Upstairs Neighbors or a Recycling Shoot

What happens when you spend the first 18 years of your life growing up in an apartment in Brooklyn, NY and then move into a four bedroom house in Tempe, AZ? The correct answer is you now have at least four rooms that make no sense to you.

I’ll start at square one. My name is Jeffrey Platt, although “Jeff” will do just fine, and I am a student at the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism. I just relocated from my humble apartment style upbringings in New York to a house in Tempe, and after realizing that I have no clue of neither how to live in a house nor use half the appliances I decide to create this blog to open a forum of discussion for anyone going through the same change.

(Side note for all the ladies reading this; I enjoy long walks on the beach, poetry, and candle light dinners. Just in case you’re interested.)

Back to business. It only took me eight days to unpack and the first piece of guidance I would like to provide is to try and unpack in one or two days, not eight.

Now that it’s clear that my way of doing things is probably the incorrect way I can start using my housemates (Marcus, Adam, and John), who all grew up in houses, to help me provide you with useful information.

The first screw-up happened when I attempted to take out the recycling. The correct way is somewhat obvious, just not to me.

Marcus,who was raised in both Arizona and California, said, “When you take out the recycling you need to make the lid close. Also it goes in the street, not on the sidewalk. That reminds me next time put it facing the house not sideways.”

What happened to that small cramped room on my floor with the garbage shoot and one blue recycling bin for everyone to throw their bottles and cans? Its gone and now you’re responsible for taking you’re own recycling to the curb or the garbage man. Something about that just doesn’t sound right.

Anyway I’ll leave you to mull over Marcus’ brilliant insight on residential recycling, but that’s it for this week.

Stay tuned as next week we learn about the Apartment Native’s fantasy, the dishwasher.