Moving In

I’m officially moved into my apartment, which is a one bed in the historic district. It is a lot of space for one person--a good size kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom, and my favorite room by far, a large open room with many windows--it fits a couch, bookcase, desk, two tables, and many chairs. It is easily the sunniest and most cheery area.


And here I am doing dishes in the kitchen (my 2nd favorite room)--mom and dad would be proud.


I encountered some issues with the place in general--there aren’t any screens in the windows so a huge bee flew in, and there are many quirks living in a place that isn’t so modern. For instance, every time I flush the toliet, I hear a gurgling noise in the bathtub. I haven’t taken a shower yet, but I imagine the toliet and shower are closely connected.

I am not used to living alone. I haven’t done it since I was in grad school last, and there is something odd about being alone at night with complete silence. I do like some white noise, so I’ve been leaving the fan on at night and letting the whirring sound lull me to sleep. It also blocks out some of the city noise, including a garbage truck that passed by around 5am.

Also, I must have sweated out most of my weight in water. With the heat being so brutal, I sweat in the apartment during the day--then I sweat at night, even with two fans blowing on me. A new tactic I tried was putting my sheets in the freezer and my pillowcase--that should provide me some solace for a good five minutes.

Right now I am blissfully comfortable, sitting in the bottom level of the student union center. There are comfy tables and chairs, and I have hooked up my mac to the system. I am also in the midst of adjusting my life. With any new Ph.D. program, the courses seem to be only half of the equation--the other, and arguably more important part, is living. Figuring out a daily routine, getting to know people in the neighborhood, and adjusting to a completely new environment. It takes, time, I know. And I need to be patient.