A Place I can be Proud of

It’s been three months since the mold was cleared out and we moved in. It’s been three months of weekly additions (mostly courtesy of my parents) and frequently cleanings. It’s been a testament of creativity in apartment dwelling.

But, as proven by my most recent weekend with my grandparents, it’s been a success. They spent the evening Chez Nous, soaked in Slummerville, and gave a positive verdict. We even had fresh-squeezed orange juice.

Yes, I’ve had friends spend the night before… but they currently reside in college dorms or ship hulls. Almost anything is an improvement.

This place was once a disaster... now it’s a home.

My kitchen — once grimy, riddled with holes and makeshift goods, and severely lacking in counter space — is now warm and fun, red & black with sun flowers and pictures of Paris. Not to mention our incredible pots, pans, kitchen utensils, portable dishwasher, pantry, island, and window coverings.

My living room — formally ad hoc and overwhelming — is now filled with nice furniture (including a hardly used sleep-sofa sectional found on craigslist for a third of the original price…$300!) and themed decorations — from the cocktail-covered clock to the framed photographs of my favorite French vineyards.

My bathroom — which I feared would never be private or clean — now sparkles and is protected by special film and waterproof curtain. Plus, from the shower curtain to the decorative soaps, it screams beach and French Riviera. All the photographs — two of Tequila, one of Alex and I, and one picturesque Mediterranean shot — have L’Esquinade for the backdrop.

And my bedroom — once a drafty corner too crowded to exist in — is heat sealed and clearly laid out, full of color and fun. That is, after all, what happens when you theme a bedroom after vintage French travel posters...

Even Alex’s room, with my brand-new never-used cranberry curtains and green comforter, looks great.

This is a place I can proud of.