pretty window. one of the things i do love about this place.
Startling discovery: My life isn't a movie, and I didn't show up to a stunningly appointed apartment in Kuwait. What?!
Kidding. :) I thought I knew what I was getting into...yeah, yeah...it wasn't going to be pretty perfection. But I wasn't prepared for our apartment. We live in the projects (shout out to my neighbors with mattresses on their porch! What up!) and the list of things that need to be fixed in this apartment is a mile long. I'll spare you the checklist, but I will say this table I'm currently using is one wiggle away from collapsing to the floor. Had we seen this place and signed on the line, I could handle it. But this one's hard...because we didn't choose this place. Someone else did, without even seeing it. Yet we're paying the insanely expensive rent. More than the mortgage on our 4-bedroom house in California...which we've sadly decided to sell, as carrying both this rent + that mortgage is tapping us out.
But we're doing everything we can to get to a new place...chosen by us. For now that means we continue to live out of boxes until we're told we can sign a different lease. (Note: this hasn't stopped me from unpacking a few things. And rearranging furniture. And making an IKEA trip. Whoops.)
I'll just put it all out there: this hasn't been easy. There have been moments in the past week--usually while trying to cook on a half-stove in a kitchen smaller than my old bathroom--where I've tearfully thought, "What were we thinking? Why did we think living abroad would be good for us?" I wistfully think of the romanticized picture of my friends' first newlywed years: it all looked so light-hearted and fun. Fights were simply about where to spend Christmas or who didn't wash the dishes. And then I look at our
I stand there, stirring something, wondering if we cheated ourselves out of that easy, rose-colored first year of bliss, while in pursuit of some grand adventure. Usually at that point in my mind-wandering, something in the kitchen breaks or overflows, and I'm distracted enough to let these thoughts float out the sand-coated window, to be picked up another day.
But I know with every new experience, there come growing pains. Often people don't talk about these pains, because admitting you had a late-night bickering sesh with your husband about something more serious than dish duty...well, it doesn't make your life sound amazing. But that's life...contrary to popular "inspirational" posters cirulating on Pinterest...there are bad days. Every single day can't always be glam and amazing.
The bigger the experience, the more intense the growing pains. This is a huge experience, and these are just our growing pains, I tell myself. And I also like to think that in two years, once we've moved out of this apartment + transitional stage of life, these growing pains will have become some pretty hilarious stories.
Because who doesn't want to hear about the time you lived in a Middle Eastern ghetto, in a building where the elevator "down" button hung off the wall...wires exposed? And the washing machine routinely overflowed? That's a jackpot of good stories!
And lucky me...I'll be able to tell them. ;)