Saturday, July 03, 2004

His apartment

I've been joking with Tim for weeks about wanting to see his place. Wednesday night, I got to visit him after coming home from a business trip. He procrastinated all week about cleaning and warned me that it was not ready but that I was still welcome to come over. He had told me before that my place is much more comfortable - I didn't understand how much so until now.

As I approached the door to his apartment, all I knew was that it was a small, one-bedroom apartment with hardwood floors. As I pushed the ajar door open, I could see him fiddling with some gadget in his bathroom. We gave each other a hug and kiss. It was nice to see him after almost two weeks apart.

Okay, yes, his apartment is rather frightening to me. Every potential open space is covered with something. I'm talking about the desk, the dining table, the coffee table... . Even the floor is covered with stacks of miscellaneous items. I have to say it's the nightmare you hear about it terms of guys, but I've been fortunate up to this point to have never run into it. All the men that I've known well, loves and friends, have been much cleaner.

I couldn't help be a little disappointed. I'm not one to hide my expressions - good or bad. I was clearly frustrated with his place. He took it well. I think I asked a lot of "what's" and "why's." I had thought my storage room for a bedroom the past year was totally embarrassing and unacceptable - Tim beat me by a mile. The dirt and particles were clearly visible to me on the floor. I couldn't help ask if he's concerned about attracting bugs.

For someone who spends more time at home than the average person (due to his unemployment) you'd think it would be more organized. The piles of obviously unused things was probably most troubling to me. Granted I probably have plenty of unused items laying around, but at least I put them away. The pile of computer products not only lays in the corner of the room in unorganized piles, it has collected a layer of dust over the years. I imagine when he moves, he'll have little to actually put in storage because he can toss so much of it.

When I sat down on his futon, I wanted to rest my hand on the armrest. The armrest has little bits of crumbs and dust. While Tim was in the kitchen, I brushed all the dirt off the armrest onto the floor is disgust. Underneath the legs of the futon, you could see where he had tried to wipe up the dirt but still missed a considerable section. I felt an overwhelming desire to find a vacuum and start cleaning.

How am I supposed to deal with this?

We had a nice time together. We talked a bit, caught up with what each other has been doing. There's just something nicely comfortable about being with him.

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