I had everything set for Ikea: I knew what I wanted, triple checked that it would be in stock, had article numbers written down and ready to go. But then I actually got the chance to measure my new bedroom on Thursday. Complete design overhaul.

I had thought about this room for weeks and obsessed over the Ikea catalog until I finally nailed exactly what I wanted the room to look like. Mind you, I was working without measurements and had only taken one quick glimpse at the room. 

It turned out that while the furniture would technically fit in the room, the layout would be really awkward. That meant bye-bye, polka-dotted couch and bye-bye cool (and cheap) design ideas. I realized that the only furniture I would be able to have touching the floor (apart from maybe two floor lamps that I inherited from one of my roommates) was the bed and the wardrobe. I wasn’t even planning on getting a wardrobe, but because I had to change the whole design, the clothes rack I had been planning on getting would’ve just looked cheap and out of place (whereas before it would of looked like “oooh, how chic and modern”). 

I had just a few hours to come up with a new “design.” I use quotation marks because, let’s not kid ourselves, this time around I just threw together a list of things I needed and pretended that it was a “design.” Honestly, I didn’t know what to do with the room. I love it, but the dimensions made it hard to picture what would work and what wouldn’t.

The room is very long (about 15 feet), but kind of narrow (about 9 1/2 feet at its widest and a little over 7 feet at its narrowest). I had to get a bed with drawers so that ruled out putting things next to the bed (not to mention that it would block the path to the bed as well). I ended up deciding to just get two of the Billy wall shelves and another shelf to solve my oh-crap-there’s-no-floorspace-for-a-bookcase problem. I could’ve gone with a smaller bed to try and free up some space, but the difference between the queen and the full bed wasn’t significant enough to be worth it, and there was no way that I was going to buy a twin bed. If I have to spend the money to buy a mattress (which I’ve never had to do before), a twin bed just doesn’t seem like a good investment.

Jump to Friday and I’m standing in front of the U-Haul rental place between Kendall and Central, new list in hand. I miscalculated how long it would take me to walk there from work, so I got there about ten minutes early. While I waited for my friend (and chauffeur for the day—I don’t drive), I walked around the neighborhood and stumbled upon Toscanini’s .

I had heard about Toscanini’s and its fabled awesomeness, and with time to spare, it would have been irresponsible of me to not get a scoop. I tried the bananas foster and the salted caramel. Both were delicious. I was almost ready to commit to the bananas foster, but there was a questionable flavor in there that warned me not to get it (there’s a lot of stuff I can’t eat). I  went for a microscoop of the salted caramel, which was more than enough ice cream for a flavor so rich. I’ll come back to sample other flavors (they sound too interesting to pass up), but the prices border on ridiculous (the microscoop was $4.50).

The Actual Trip

My tall, bearded Australian friend (I think he would like me to include that he’s tall, bearded and Australian) and I hit massive amounts of traffic on the way to and from Ikea. Apparently I’ve now been banned from coming with him on his next road trip because it seems that every time we get in a car together we get stuck in traffic. And by “stuck” I mean that one time in Alabama the traffic got so bad that people were parking their cars and just walking about, waiting for it to move. I have actual evidence of this.

At Ikea, I changed my mind about the wardrobe again. Once I looked at it in the store, I just didn’t like the color and the dinky little knobs. I was going to change the knobs regardless, but the color and overall look of the white “wood” was not something I wanted to deal with. My friend suggested that I paint the wardrobe, but I moved last year and that move required painting a lot of furniture (because I didn’t have any money to buy new furniture) and I didn’t want to go through that again (at least not so soon). Sadly, the wardrobe I liked best was a lot pricier. I was still within my budget, so I decided to go for it. I would’ve loved to have gotten the matching bed as well, but that I definitely couldn’t afford.

Two hours, thirty Swedish meatballs and many, many short jokes later (I’m under five feet tall and my friend kept making fun of me for not getting appropriately sized furniture and insisting on buying a queen bed), we were on our way back to Somerville.

I have to say that it was quite amusing watching the guys trying to get my huge mattress up a very narrow staircase.

I’m very lucky to know such great people here in Boston/Cambridge/Somerville who were so willing to help me out. My coworker and her husband even assembled most of my furniture for me and brought me some beer as a housewarming gift (I can’t drink at all because of a medical condition, but I appreciated the gesture).

I’ll post some pictures of the room soon.

Next step: hiring someone to put the shelves on my walls.

Tonight’s my last night here. By tomorrow, I’ll have officially moved to my new apartment. I’ve grown quite used to this place and it’ll be strange to walk by it every day knowing that it’s no longer my place, that it’s someone else’s new home.

Yesterday did not start out well. I woke up and decided to take out the trash which was almost overflowing. It looked like Ghost Roommate hadn’t bothered with it at all while I was away, which is not surprising since in the three months that we’ve lived together he’s only taken out the trash once and has never helped us clean. Ghost Roommate mainly keeps to himself. He seems like a friendly enough guy, but he’s always locked away in his room. I can only tell that he’s still in the apartment and alive because he leaves the toilet seat up and is apparently incapable of peeing inside the bowl.

But back to the trash…

I lifted the trash bag and it started leaking the foulest smelling liquid my nose has ever sniffed. It got everywhere: the floor, the sink, my shoes. Apparently one of my roommates thought that it was a good idea to throw some gravy-like substance in the trash instead of down the drain, so it ended up pooling in the bottom of the trash can and I ended up with the lovely task of cleaning everything up. I swear I must have cleaned that kitchen sink three times to try and get the smell out.

I always used to think that it was so fake and over-the-top when TV and movie characters gagged or threw up because of a bad smell. Not anymore. It’s a real thing. I learnt that the hard way.

A few minutes after I finished cleaning, my coworker and her son arrived to help me move. They made the whole process super painless. They were incredibly helpful and didn’t seem to mind carrying heavy boxes down from a second floor apartment and then up to a third floor apartment. They were awesome. Previously, I had been wheeling my belongings to the new place, one huge suitcase at a time. Throwing a car and a couple of volunteers into the mix definitely made things a lot easier. 

We finished much earlier than I thought we would, and it was beautiful out, so I went for a walk. I went to Inman Square because it’s one of the few places that I know how to walk to (I have a terrible sense of direction) and because I just didn’t feel like going to Harvard. On the way there, I spotted a discarded swivel chair in front of a house. I felt the urge to sit down and give it a whirl. I just really, really wanted to do it. I looked around to see if there was anyone in the vicinity (there was), but then I decided that I didn’t care. I wanted to try out that swivel chair and I didn’t care who saw. I sat down on it and then I resumed my walk to Inman with the biggest grin on my face because it is so satisfying to do something just because you feel like it.

I also stopped at Suzuki Bean in Somerville because I had always been curious about the place, but had never gone inside. It’s smaller than I expected it to be, but it did not disappoint. It’s a cute little store and everything’s arranged in a really visually appealing way. I think I’ll go back there for a few decorative knick knacks once I’m settled in.

At Inman, I went to Boutique Fabulous, Lorem Ipsum Books and Christina’s Homemade Ice Cream. It was my first time at Boutique Fabulous, but it certainly won’t be my last (especially considering the fact that I have to go back next week to pick up something I bought). There is so much to look at, ranging from quirky to funny to cute to elegant. There’s a decent-sized vintage clothing section and they sell lots of local-themed stuff, like signs that say “Cambridge” or “Somerville” and Inman Square t-shirts.

Lorem Ipsum Books is quickly becoming one of my favorite spots. It’s a chill used bookstore with a hipster-ish vibe. Don’t let that “hipster-ish vibe” bit turn you off because honestly, it’s an awesome place. They have an interesting selection of books, comfy couches, usually play good (but not distracting) music, and have a clean bathroom. If nothing else, you should go there to check out their book vending machine and the old fridge full of books.

After Lorem Ipsum, I went to Christina’s for some ice cream for the journey home. The thing about Christina’s is that the customer service is usually pretty terrible. I’ve been there three times now and not once have I seen a staff member smiling. Yesterday the girl serving me was just plain rude. The ice cream is great, but the service really does mar the experience. This quote from a Yelp review sums it up perfectly:

“They get you your scoop, but they’re pissed about it.”

On the walk back, all I could think about was the swing set at the park. I love swings and it had been a while since I’d last been on one. Like with the swivel chair, I didn’t care that people were watching. I’m almost 22 years old, which in my book doesn’t mean I’m too old for swings, it means that I’m old enough to not give a crap about what other people think.

I finished the day by going to a friend’s house to watch Spirited Away (I don’t think he liked it very much, but it’s one of my favorite Miyazaki movies). Yesterday might’ve started off  badly, but it ended up being one of the best days I’ve had in a while. 

I have to be out of my current apartment by the end of the month. One of my coworkers offered to help me move some of my stuff to my new apartment tomorrow (thank you!), which means that today I will be packing like crazy (again) and getting everything ready.

I’ve already moved most of the stuff from my bedroom (read: lots and lots of clothes and shoes), but today I have to deal with all the stuff I’ve been avoiding: the pile of dirty clothes that need to be washed and packed away, the kitchen (not looking forward to this one since everything in there is fragile and completely out of my reach), and my backpack. My poor, poor backpack. 

After the South by Southwest Tums Disaster of March 2012, I put my backpack in a corner and pretended it didn’t exist. Every now and then I would give it a look and think, “I’ll clean it soon.” But I never did. Why? Because every time I reached in there to grab something, it reminded me of the horrors inside. It was a project that I just wasn’t ready to tackle.

But today I was forced to face my fears.

This is what the inside of my backpack looks like:

Here’s an actual picture of some of the items that I took out:

Yesterday I got back to Somerville around 4:30am. Instead of going to sleep right away (which I should’ve done since I had to be at work at 10:30), I got reacquainted with my apartment. One of my roommates had moved out while I was away and things just felt different. Also, I was too happy to be back to go to sleep.

Apartment, I know I give you crap about not having a living room or a couch (and you know how I love me some couches) and about your ridiculously sensitive smoke alarms that go off when someone opens the door, but deep down I truly love you. I love that you’re so close to the T, I love that there are four doors in my room but only one of them opens, and I love that you have a deck. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m really going to miss you.

I might be moving to another apartment (with a living room), but you’ll always have a special place in my heart.

Back in February I took a semester off from school and temporarily moved to Boston (Somerville, actually) to take part in TechStars (an incredible startup accelerator program). It was an amazing and exhausting experience, so when given the option to stick around, I said yes.

I’ll be officially moving to Somerville at the end of May (right now, I’m back home in Puerto Rico packing up some of my stuff), and if I’m completely honest, it’s both really exciting and really weird. Even though I kind of decided to move on a whim, I know it’s the right decision for me. But it’s completely weird knowing that I’m moving somewhere with no set moving out date. I’m staying in Somerville indefinitely and I find that bizarre. 

I lived in Rhode Island (boarding school) and in New York (college), but I knew that I would leave those places at a specific date (graduation). Not that it worked out exactly how it was supposed to (I ended up having to move back home after a year in NY), but I had a clearer idea of what my future looked like in those places. I really don’t know how long I’ll be in Somerville and that’s scary and awesome.

I’m looking forward to this move and to exploring Somerville, Cambridge, and Boston.

If you have any suggestions on places that I should check out in the Somerville/Cambridge/Boston area, let me know.