When you live in a small but comfortable apartment in a major city, you forgo some at-home amenities for the sake of living somewhere super cool.
It forces you to get creative. For example, Justin and I have turned what’s supposed to be our living room into our bedroom and what’s supposed to be our bedroom into our home office and recording studio.
I long for the day I can own a couch again, as well as cute, meaningless baskets set up around each room for visual effect and no real purpose other than to carelessly throw the occasional magazine. But for the most part, this set up is awesome. We won’t be here forever, so I can still Pinterest home décor ideas without fear that my mid-century modern dreamboat dining room will never come to fruition. Not owning a home allows you to live in, metaphorically, the space where you can dream to your heart’s content.
The only bad part is that space is at a premium. And as one half of a couple willing to compromise, I have to give up a few fights.
Like, the one about why we don’t put the tool bag in a closet instead of having it on the office floor (no more room).
Or why we can’t put the dust spray with all the other cleaning supplies instead of leaving it on the bookshelf. (He “likes it there” because we use it all the time to spray down our TV trays and no one visits us anyway. That’s another nice thing about living in a city — you rarely host friends because there are too many other, better places to meet and hang.)
Our apartment lifestyle is focused on function. Not form. For better or worse. Or at least until we’ve saved up enough for a down payment on a house.
Or a Westy.
Because we’ve committed to this way of life for the time being, we have saved a lot of money… which we sometimes spend on stupid things.
Like Justin’s latest purchase: A freaking in-home sauna.
He heard about these on Joe Rogan’s podcast. (Lol. True story.) Something to do with “heat shock proteins” and reducing inflammation?
Justin knew a JRE recco wouldn’t sell me on it though, so he came up with a good sales pitch:
- “We would have a sauna! How cool is that! These are the luxuries we can have before a baby gets made.”
- “It’s to help us feel healthy and good and it’s cheaper than buying a membership to a place that has a sauna.”
- “Look how funny I look when I’m in it.”
Number three was definitely the dark horse angle in this race. I can’t help but giggle when I turn the corner to find his head sticking out of this stupid tent thing, like he’s buried under sand at a beach.
But what really sold me was when I tried it the other day after a run. Damn it, I thought, as I began to relax, a warm hug enveloping my body. Uggggh. I think I like this.
I agreed we could keep it (like it’s a puppy he brought home or something) but I just have two rules.
- That dumb thing gets packed up and put away after it’s aired out and we’re not using it.
- The other person has to be home while it’s in use. I do NOT want to be the subject of an episode of some “Wacky Ways to Die” TV pilot because I got trapped in a zipper-clad polyester pressure cooker.
I’ll get a couch again set someday. And, thanks to our stupid freaking sauna, I’ll be able to swoon on it with my proteins fully engaged… K, brah?