This morning, I woke up, showered, grabbed my phone, and headed down to the coffee shop beneath my apartment. The line was five people deep by 8AM. Wanting to secure a spot, I sat my Mac on the counter and my bag on the barstool. Without making eye contact or a hand gesture, the girl behind the bar stopped working on the latte she was making, grabbed a mug, filled it with hot coffee, and sat it down in front of me.
It made my fucking morning.
When I was in college, my roommate Michelle and I lived above this coffee shop called Mars Café. I never went. It was the kind of place that makes my brother hate coffee shops (he thinks they’re a gathering place for hippies to read philosophy). On a rare occasion, Michelle and I would run downstairs and through the back door to buy brownies. We did this only so we wouldn’t buy a whole package of double-stuffed Oreos and eat them in 48 hours—the likely alternative.
I was a much more frequent visitor at the sushi restaurant next to the coffee shop. I would come home from track practice, put my order in, run upstairs to shower, and come back downstairs to swipe my credit card.
Living in that apartment (it was gorgeous, that apartment—totally ruined me) gave me the idea that I wanted to live above places. I never wanted to live in a high-rise apartment complex. I didn’t care what amenities were included. I wanted to overlook the street, in my own mini fortress directly above the action.
My apartment has so many issues. I don’t have laundry, a dishwasher, or a garbage disposal. I actually have to walk my trash out of my apartment, down the steps, and around the corner to the alleyway. It wouldn’t be that much of an inconvenience, except sometimes I just don’t want to wear a bra when I take out the trash. When you’re going against traffic with customers parading out of Whole Foods, you just have to wear a bra. It’s the way of the world.
Whoever designed my apartment forgot one critical component of any home-living situation: outlets. If you own an iPhone 7 and think wireless is taking over the universe, it’s not. There are a lot of cords out there, and cords need outlets. Do you know what its like to have one outlet per room? I don’t have an outlet in my bathroom. For awhile, I plugged my curling iron into the same outlet as my coffee pot. I had to buy a new curling iron.
All of this considered, I am 100 percent, over-the-moon in love with my place. I’m back to living above a coffee shop, and a Chinese dive with questionable working conditions replaced my sushi restaurant. Hopefully typing blog posts in my coffee shop doesn’t make me a hippie.
Everything in life has a trade-off. You can have a big back yard and a massive house or you can walk to work. You can have your health insurance premiums covered or you can love what you do while surviving off ramen. You can go back to school or you can live your life without every picking up a textbook. You can live in an apartment old as dirt with questionable electric and still make it your perfect place.
You don’t have to work today. You don’t have to do laundry unless you’re out of underwear. You can ignore your errands and go do something fun. Happy Saturday.