Lebensraum: benign version

I have more floor space now than I'd had for the previous three days. While there's still a lot to do, setup-wise, I've managed to organize at least 60% of my possessions in a way that makes sense. I still need to buy a 5-tier storage shelf for use in my kitchenette (I lost a good bit of cabinet space in this move), and I'm not done rearranging the major furniture: I still have to put my TV in its final position. As in my previous place, the TV will end up partially blocking my one and only window. This time, though, that won't be tragic because the new view sucks.

I'm learning about my new place's features, and how they compare with the previous apartment's. A quick rundown: the bathroom is better in almost every way except for the way the shower's hose hangs: it hangs in an awkward manner that causes the shower nozzle, when mounted on the wall, to point in an awkward direction. I've tried untwisting the hose by a few turns to relieve the problem; that's helped a bit. The kitchen sink is metal, as God intended, instead of that bizarre, heavy-duty plastic that I'd had to put up with for three years. However, the kitchen faucet doesn't put out water at a very high pressure, and unlike the bathroom faucet, when you crank the kitchen faucet over to the hottest setting, hot water takes an entire eon to arrive. That's a bit frustrating, but I imagine I'll get used to the deficit eventually. In terms of floor space, I think the new place may be ever-so-slightly larger, but not by much. The geometry of the new apartment is also even weirder than that of the previous pad: if the former apartment's footprint looked like California from above, the new place looks a bit like California, but wearing Lincoln's stovepipe hat somewhat askew. Why did the designers go for such weird poong-su?* The new flooring is the same as the old flooring: it's a thin, rubberized covering with a surface of simulated wood grain. Because the new place is only recently renovated, it has the feel of newness about it: the wallpaper is un-torn, and the number of drywall screws is minimal. In fact, I've taken a liking to the screws, and I plan to adorn several of them with my own artwork, once I get back to making art. As mentioned above, the new view out the window sucks; I now face west, into town. There isn't much to see, and in fact, I'm a bit paranoid about how much people outside my window can see should they decide to look into my place: my new window blinds don't cover the bottom fourth of my windows. It's a good thing my TV will soon be blocking that portion. Lastly: I have massive closet space, now, so I'm planning to devote one closet entirely to hiking equipment, much of which I'll be buying in the States and shipping back to Korea. While prudence requires me not to splurge, I must admit there's a definite urge to buy, buy, buy while I'm abroad.

So! Upshot: bit by bit, my new place is coalescing into a livable space. I've got shelving and more tables to buy, not to mention several more chairs (the previous place came pre-equipped with two tables and two chairs; I've lost those in the new place). But soon enough, I'll be good to go, and it's all rock and roll from there.

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*Poong-su is the Korean pronunciation of feng shui ("fung-shweigh," not "feng-shooee"), a type of geomancy that evaluates spaces and landscapes in terms of their energy flow, and how that flow affects people who are on the spot and/or in the vicinity.