I live like a hoarder. Now I don't think that technically I am a hoarder. I just live like one. Ever since I had to move from my crowded one bedroom apartment into a studio, I've been living like a hoarder. Not one of those that you see on T.V. who has 17 dead cats in her bathroom and sleeps sitting on a pile of animal feces. More like I have a path to get in the door and make it to my bed. On either side are just piles of things that I don't have a place to put. Up until about three days ago, I couldn't even sit on the couch because it was piled high with things.
"Well, Wendy, why don't you just put the stuff away and then you can live like a normal person?" You may ask. I will tell you why. I am bitter and unmotivated. Bitter because I had to move, against my will, out of my nice little apartment that, while did have a view of the alley and dumpster, I liked very much. Unmotivated because hopefully (no word from the bank yet) I will be moving into my very own and much larger townhouse in anywhere from 30-45 days. Why would I waste my time trying to come up with creative places to put things when I will just have to move it all again?
So instead, I resign myself to living like a hoarder. At least now I can sit on the couch. Although it really wasn't that bad, because I can see the T.V. and everywhere else in my apartment from my bed. Here is a little tour to give you an idea of my current living conditions.
Closet to the left.
Bathroom to the right.
Somewhere under there is a couch.
My bed/computer desk/dining table
View from my bed.
View towards the kitchen from my bed.
Dining area--Somewhere under there is a table.
Rest of the kitchen.
