Wednesday, July 31, 2013


One of the great things about living in a studio apartment is having all of your physical possessions on display to all of your visitors, so they can see what kind of books and boxes and sheets you like, and you can have nice conversations about how you very visibly live like the little ant hoarding food for winter, except in this case food is cardboard boxes full of old high school dance pictures.1

Another great thing about studio life are your neighbors. Since studios are too small for families, you don't have any of the problems associated with adorable children or adults with stable employment or rational emotions. You can spend your days and evenings confident that no crying child will wake you up at 2 AM, just the occasional drunk screaming woman outside your door, or possibly the angry fighting couple across the hall.

The only slight downside may be the angry couple catercorner2 to you, whose friend came by last week to shout directly outside your door something about beating women who talked back to him, and there was an animated discussion about the resemblance of your male neighbor to anatomical features of both genders, and the relative merits of him returning to prison.3 All while your wife is trying to study for the bar. This is good practice for the bar, because you'll need to be prepared to perform under pressure, just like how I've placed a baseball bat next to the door. Of course, baseball bats are prohibited in the bar exam,4 but you see what I mean.

Our apartment complex is especially good, because it has a "pool" roughly modeled after a plastic kiddie pool. I don't have to worry about drowning, or even being able to swim a stroke without banging my hands against the wall, which is good, because I can't actually swim a stroke. A fringe benefit of the pool is that, through some magic of the water gods, our entire apartment smells like chlorine. This includes the water we drink. It's comforting to know that while we may die of poison, we won't have any bacterial infections.

While all of this has been enjoyable, sadly, we are moving to a tiny little house.5 We will, of course, be doing this two days after the bar, and one hour after I finish running a half marathon, because when else would I schedule it?

1. In fairness, I only have one of those. Britt refuses to disclose where hers are. But I will find them, I promise you.
2. My mind was blown when I first discovered this to be a word, so I try to use it as much as possible to look sophisticated. Sort of how I'll throw in a whom here and there even when it's clearly not necessary.
3. This produced an elevated point-counterpoint discussion.
4. EVERYTHING is prohibited in the bar exam. There's a dude sitting in front of Britt yesterday and a proctor comes over and just walks off with the dude's glasses case. Just yanks it silently and walks off, I'm pretty sure just to show that they own him.
5. Which, I assure you, we will be renting, given the amount of money we owe the federal government, which, incidentally, can afford to hook up large banks with next-to-free money, but when it comes to a legal education, can't take anything less than seven percent on loans that can't be discharged through bankruptcy.


Nettie said...

Wait. You run? I swear you and Jeremiah were the last Perry hold-outs in the whole running thing.

chris said...

nay-nay and jeremiah are the hold outs. I run, but I have sissy knee issues, so half marathon is about where I have to bow out.

Julia said...

The perfect guide to studio apartments! Also don't worry about finding boxES of Britt's high school dance pictures..I can help with that;)

brittney perry said...

Those debts can be discharged through death though! so it's not all bad!