I moved out on my own for the first time on September 27th, 2014. 

Ironically (or maybe it's not ironic at all), both my parents were out of town that day. My moving crew consisted of my older brother, his wife, and my boyfriend. Just us and the littlest U-Haul I could afford. 

...incidentally. I think that's the word.


I've been residing at #casadelalucy for three weeks now. I live on the second story in the building that is farthest from the street. Still settling in, realizing I need shelving... and lightbulbs... and wall hooks... and a cutting board. 

Complaints? Not too many... My neighbors are mostly quiet. The pet policy only allows dogs that are... well, the size of cats. And when one of them barks, it's like a call to arms for the rest of the freaking canine community. 

My downstairs neighbor smokes at 9am and 8pm. Well, he probably smokes often in between but those are the only hours I'm home to experience the thick crap odor coming from my bathroom sink and through my kitchen windows. 

Oh, and the week-long ant episode... 

But that's a whole 'nother blog post waiting to happen. 

Until then, enjoy the tour!

Cocina de la Lucy! Thus far, I have cooked three complete dinners, two perfectly poached eggs, a 10" cast iron chocolate chip cookie, and a dozen cups of herbal tea. Breakfasts are usually rushed (an apple and some toast), lunches are a "what's closest to work" outing funded by my boyfriend with the full-time job (thank you, Marc), and dinners are usually enjoyed sitting between a picky six year-old and a hyperactive nine-year old (mac-n-cheese, chicken nuggets, pepperoni pizza, repeat). I have two vats of butter pecan ice cream in the freezer (both of which were gifts) and two ice trays that look like stunted rubber duckies. 

Oh yeah, and that whole "learning to wash dishes by hand" thing? Super fun. Especially that first time I realized that the dishes I leave in the sink... stay in the sink until I clean them.

*Make no mistake: I have a dishwasher... but it makes the weirdest screaming-chipmunk-on-acid sounds and it may or may not lunge forward suddenly if you look at it the wrong way.

Kitchen Sink.jpg

Living area. Where I've been doing most of my computer work until I arrange my office space in my bedroom. Shades are concealing the balcony. Which is how we got the couch into the unit.

Shoutout to my other neighbor who had extra rope. 

El dormitorio. I didn't bother cleaning it up for the picture. But I made my little bed. 


Around the corner from the bedroom is my very, very, very own getting-ready area. To foreshadow an awesome post about my ant invasion, this is where they were first spotted. Hundreds of them.

On the counter.

Coming up through the sink.

And finally.

Was that necessary? Probably not. 

But I don't care. It's mine. 

My own.

My precious.

I wish I had another photo to transition out of that last part, but I don't. So how's this for an awkward segue into a satisfying ending? 

To conclude, the daily cleaning, meal-planning, budgeting, necessity shopping is all part of the game I've agreed to play for the next 11 months. 

The best part about living alone? I haven't really put my finger on it yet. I know for sure it has something to do with the fact that I can either come home from work and wash my dishes, clean up the living room, make a sandwich and watch tv.

Like the normal folk do. 

Or eat half a loaf of buttered bread while obsessively listening to some Indie band I fell in love with on the drive home, scroll past the dreamy shop windows on my laptop, pass out for a couple hours, and wake up to the smell of cigarette smoke seeping in through my kitchen window.