We’ve had our new apartment for a couple months now and Tom and I couldn’t be happier with our new place (except if it was less expensive, a little bigger, allowed pets, didn’t have a leaky bathroom ceiling [we’re in the process of getting that fixed], had roof access, and came with a personal chef, trainer, and maid…but we’re not picky).
Our old place was a good starter apartment – it was cheap, a little bit farther into Brooklyn than desired, and not in the best area, but also not in the worst. The landlady was nice but didn’t speak or understand English very well. For example, one time when I was telling her we were having trouble with electricity and a ‘light bulb’ in the bathroom, she said she would send a plumber to look at the ‘toilet bowl’. She was pleasant to us though from day 1 until we turned our keys in, giving me a hug and telling me how sad a day it was that we were leaving.
Our new place, although technically smaller (old place = 2 bedrooms, new place = 1 bedroom), the layout is much more conducive to having company over. Plus, we don’t live so far away from everything desirable, so I feel comfortable inviting people into our neighborhood and don’t feel bad about them traveling so far, only able to get to us via one train. We’re so much more central to everything and our new place is more accessible to friends that live in Brooklyn than our place in Brooklyn was.
Plus, both Tom’s and my commute to work have changed for the better. I went from 8 subway stops to 4; yes, commuting from Manhattan to Brooklyn is quicker than commuting from Brooklyn to Brooklyn. Tom’s commute went from 16 subway stops to 2, so he just walks to work now; I don’t think he’s ever taken the train to work since we moved. And that is great because I think he’s gotten more fresh air, sunshine, and exercise in the past month than he did the entire 2 years we lived in Brooklyn. I’m not even kidding.
So last night, we had our housewarming party with a bunch of my work friends. I have to be honest and say I was super stressed and nervous that A) no one would come and B) whoever did come wouldn’t have a good time. I’ve never hosted a party before and I was thinking the worst.
“We have way too much food; what if no one eats and then everyone thinks, ‘Wow, there’s so much food and no one’s eating it…'”
“What if everyone cancels last minute or only a couple people show up and then it’s awkward because they think maybe they should have canceled because this party is lame?”
Tom kept reminding me that I was supposed to have fun, not be so stressed and pessimistic.
Plus, I know my friends are my friends for a reason, so of course we would have a good time. I can clearly and rationally see it all now that I’m not in that stressful situation. I tend to overthink things
a lot sometimes and I’m grateful for Tom’s reassurance and pep talks and help cleaning and grocery shopping.
And, of course, my friends showed up and we all ate and had a good time. I didn’t want it to end and I’m excited to have people over more during the summer. We’ll definitely have other groups of friends as well, we just couldn’t invite everyone due to space confines.
We have so much food leftover (I just had pizza for breakfast and will probably have it for lunch and maybe dinner!) and gained some cookies, booze, and our first house plant. But the best gain was the time spent with good company, laughing, playing geeky games, and sharing our new space because we can.