I miss Lakeland, Florida.
The abundance of complacency that filled my soul, while living there, was totally ridiculous. My apartment literally looked like it was going to crumble on cue, if it endured even a mild-tempered thunderstorm. The stairs were hazardous, the shower water smelled of rotting carcus, the kitchen was intolerably small, there were innumerable plumbing issues, and due to the lack of air conditioning, I scorched in the smoldering Florida sun. But it was quaint and beautiful.
I want my shitty apartment back, with only my clothes, books, Internet, TV and my ukulele. The presence of a roommate isn’t necessary. Just my bare necessities.
Just me in my weathered apartment, Camus book, ukulele and a mango smoothie in hand.