When I moved in to my current apartment, the first thing I noticed was the brown paper sheets taped over the glass balcony door, acting as a measure of privacy. They looked as if several paper grocery bags had been pieced together to form some ghetto excuse for a curtain. It was an eyesore to be sure but at least the packaging tape holding it up was a matching shade of dung. They were doing a fine job of keeping the tenement block across the street from peering into my room but one thing was certain: they had to go. Among other necessities like desk lamps, a wall mirror, and a bulbous cactus which now adorns my windowsill, the curtains were an absolute must. Six months, two desk lamps, one wall mirror, and a bulbous cactus later, I continue to gaze with contempt upon the brown paper bags.
The shortcomings of my abode don’t stop there. The room is devoid of a television. The computer desk which I inherited from the previous occupants (more likely the occupants before the previous who in turn found it on the side of the road) is wabbly and the faux wooden veneer is fading. What I’d really like, besides a TV and new furniture, is one of those trendy salt lamps to put on the nightstand – you know, a big salt rock with a lightbulb inside that emits a warm amber glow. So why don’t I have these things? Because in many ways I am a visitor here. I never signed a contract when I moved in. I pay my rent in cash every month and I could disappear tomorrow if I chose to. Or my disappearance might be forced upon me by the termination of my employment. Without a visa I’d have little choice but to hike it back to the States. At least the headache of trying to make a British television work with US voltage is not going to be something I deal with. I hope I’m not painting a glum picture with these depictions.
The truth is I really like my flat. I have plenty of room for all my things, a double bed, a balcony, and even a couch which folds out into a day-bed. What I like most of all is how this place has taught me to let go and adapt. To fight the winter chills I’ve got a space heater. It sounds like there might be little more than a hair dryer engine under the
hood of this bad boy but it gets the job done. Because the English don’t believe in drying machines, I’ve stung up some clothes lines on my balcony. They too, get the job done.
What this has really taught me is how to distinguish between the essential and the superfluous. Internet is essential. So is storage space. A comfortable mattress is a must. An incense burner is both decorative and practical. A Bose iPod dock would absolutely annoy the shit out of me (at least at this stage in my life). I suppose we all have different needs and wants but in learning to tell the two apart lies spiritual bliss. The fact that I was driven to action in buying a desk lamp is to me, an indicator of importance; I couldn’t read comfortably. Even the cactus brings me joy; knowing how little I have to do to keep in bloom. As for the brown paper bags… I’m thinking of leaving them as a gift for the next occupant. Let them decide what’s important in their life!
