This post is different from all the previous ones because it’s been written over the span of two years. Recently, a little over a month ago, I turned 40—an age when you’re supposedly expected to know what you want out of life. I knew. I wanted to have my own apartment. Preferably on the ground floor. With a garden.
An apartment with a garden and grand plans
Meaning—as it later turned out—with my own piece of land where you can do more than just relax. You can also spend the next few years conducting research on human endurance when it comes to mowing the lawn, planting, and battling weeds. And today, at the notary’s office, I bought that apartment. Everything seemed simple. Keys, some furniture, a bit of paint, maybe a closet, a kitchen… and done.
How beautiful and innocent that thought was. It quickly turned out that “finishing an apartment” is about as precise a term as “just dropping by for coffee.” It started innocently enough. First, I had to do the floors and paint. Then fix something. Then something that was already fixed had to be fixed again.
Help with finishing the apartment
And here we get to the most important part of the whole story. Because I didn’t do this apartment by myself. And there’s no way I’d ever say otherwise. That’s why huge thanks go out to everyone who took part in this whole madness. To those who helped carry, drill, paint, assemble, cut, move, measure, fix, and fix yet again. To those who came to help, even though they probably had their own, much more pleasant plans for the weekend. To those who gave advice.
Thank you for every hour, every piece of advice, every item brought over, every borrowed piece of equipment, and all the discounts and promotions. Thank you to all the pros, helpers, friends, and family who chipped in to help with this project. Though some did a lot more than just chip in. Thank you for your patience and dedication. Thank you also for the fact that when I looked at yet another unfinished thing and started considering selling the apartment “as is,” you still claimed that:
After all these months, I can proudly say:
The apartment is almost done.
The state of advanced almost-done
Okay…
It’s in a state of advanced almost-done.
Or actually… it’s still not finished.
And I think I already know it never will be. Because there will always be some baseboard, shelf, lamp, picture, or piece of the garden that can be tweaked. Or a brilliant idea that pops up exactly when you decide you’re finally finished.
Because the most important thing isn’t for everything to be perfect. The most important thing is that I have my own place. A ground-floor apartment. A garden.
