That picture is of our half-packed apartment. We move on Saturday to another, larger apartment in the same complex. It’s a two bedroom and we can’t wait!

But, even though we are ready for more space, and excited to move, this apartment that we are leaving was our first together. We moved into it shortly after arriving in Austin and made it into our home together. It was the apartment where I got to be a desperately bored housewife, who, despite liking to cook and clean, started having panic attacks about my need to be gainfully employed and not dependent on my husband for money forever. It was the place we brought Penny Pie home to, and the place where we stayed when we couldn’t afford to go out. We added furniture to it as we could, or needed. A table and chairs for our first Thanksgiving. A couch this past winter when I couldn’t stand not cuddling while watching a show any longer. We still haven’t gotten a bed frame and are a little short on chairs, but it’s generally been fine.
This was our starter apartment, the one where we fought out problems, celebrated being together, made plans for our future and saved our pennies. It’s the place where we figured out what it meant to be part of a marriage, or at least, we started that difficult task here. One day we will tell our kids about it, and about how we got a dog for Christmas, instead of any other gifts, and how I made the napkins from remnant fabric, along with the Christmas stockings and shower curtain.
It was our first place to make our own, and we did the best we could, and were happy with it. Because we were. We have been. We are.

But now, I feel ready to create our “grown up” apartment. I am excited to have an office space, one that is out of the bedroom, and to get Ian’s desk out of the living room so he can have half a man cave. I am excited to have more space so that some things can be put away and my closet wont be a crap shoot full of crappy organization. (I get the master bedroom closet and Ian is taking the closet in the second bedroom. Perfect solution.) I want a bedroom that involves a bed I don’t have to roll out of to get up, and one that is meant for relaxation.

We have some money now to play decorator with, and I’ve been mooning over design books, hoping that for once I can make our home a comfortable, pretty place without always having to search for the cheapest alternative. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still pretty cheap, but now at least our friends will have enough chairs when they join us for dinner, and our shower curtain won’t be too narrow because I ran out of fabric. I can actually buy the shower curtain!

I am very excited to have my apartment act its age. One of us should.