Little Things.

My home right now is a collection of little things. Pieces that are slowly coming together to make a home. A blue and white porcelain cup with my toothbrush and toothpaste in it on my white enamel sink. It's a small sink, with no counter to clutter with make up and hair elastics or necklaces, taken off before bed. These days, it is one of two adornments, one from Beth or one from Tiff. Reminders of these dear friends, carrying something with me that has passed from their hands to mine.

My apartment is one of twelve in an old building on the same street my great grandma used to live on. I like that. Though there are things in my apartment that don't work so well, namely the water pressure for the tub/shower, there are other things that are old and sturdy, like the painted white doors. There are also things that are charming, like a collection of interesting faceplates for the light switches, the archway details on doorways between rooms and all the exposed pipes carrying hot water to the radiators in the apartments above. 

There are funny things too, like the man next door who snores every night and goes to bed by nine. What makes it funny and not nightmarish is that it doesn't stop me from going to sleep. I hung my first piece of art and I now have a table and chairs. Little things. 

My neighborhood.