I have a new little apartment! [apparently I have a trend for tiny living arrangements.] I think I’m going to love it, but it’s going to be a process getting it all organized and ready for living in.
The new place is just north of downtown Indy. I sent an inquiry email when I found this little space and received an email back “Thanks for your interest! We have units available, but you’ll have to go through the artist interview process to get in.”
I mean, the name of the building did contain the words “ARTIST COLONY” but it’s just the name of the building. Right? When you say “artist” what exactly do you mean? What does this “interview” entail?
Oh, it’s actual people who consider themselves fine artists or musicians or actors or writers. Um…I’m creative? Does that count? I like to bake fancy things? create recipes? paint my nails elaborately? sometimes I take pictures?
Apparently I was ok enough to get in.
Except I'm supposed to participate in things.
With people I don’t know.
And share some of my creativity.
Is anyone terrified for me?
Hold me, I’m scared.
My aunt and uncle brought all my things from storage in Fort Wayne [so grateful!] and I packed up my stuff from the little house here and for the first time in three years all my possessions are in the same place. And for the first time in three years I’m opening boxes and thinking “WHY DID I PACK THAT?”
I’m touching everything. It’s taking forever. FOOOOORRRR-EH-VAH.
I have so much trash.
I’ve taken things to Salvation Army. I’m getting rid of this and that and those things over there.
It feels good, except right now it looks like this:
I’m so excited to cook and bake and hang pictures and make my space my own. This wading through the crap phase is taking too long, but it must be done!
Here’s the layout, except it’s more like the backwards picture.
Room tours coming soonish [please refer to above picture of the mess].