“Mooi, do you mind if I hang some of my shorts in your room somewhere? I figure since I’ll likely move in the future I should start bringing things over piece by piece, right?” He smiled. That smile. The one that calms me, reassures me, turns me on, and gives me butterflies all at once. What a beautiful thing.

“You know you don’t have to ask. Wherever you find place,” I replied, waving my hand ceremoniously through the air, surveying the available places one could find for three misplaced shorts. Suddenly I became anxious about my lack of closet space and short-holding vessels within my tiny shoebox apartment. It would require some serious reorganization of the big tupper bins under my bed. I’d have to get rid of the long-sleeved shirts and fleece pajamas piled in my closet. And why was I still holding on to that little black dress that’s been out of season for four years already?

He made room for his three pairs of shorts on an already cluttered ironing board, right next to my Snoopy bra which needed to be handwashed and a plastic bag of stockings a coworker had given me from France I just don’t have the heart to throw out.

Hi, my name is Charlotte… and I am a hoarder.

Bryan started moving his things in one-by-one months ago. First he dropped off a toothbrush. Then a pair of house slippers, followed by another pair of slippers (I’m starting to think his shoe addiction might be worse than mine). Shorts, pants, sweatshirts, dress shirts for work. Then we took in a foster dog who weighs in at almost 70 lbs, I started working from home, and suddenly 400 square feet feels incredibly claustrophobic.

Last weekend, we headed out in search of apartments. Thankfully, we both seem to be on the same page when it comes to what we can/can’t live without.

Must-haves: Dog-friendly apartment without breed restrictions. Open layout. Extra bedroom since I now work from home. Accessible to city and walking distance to things (I don’t yet have a car).

Wants: Dishwasher. Laundry machine in building. Reading nook. Walk-in closet (I drool whenever I see these).

Can-live-withouts: Backyard. Weird creepy neighbors. Corner bodegas and 24-hour stores in walking distance (though I will definitely miss these).

We only made it to two apartments in different parts of New Jersey but what I found incredibly reassuring is that we are sticking to a budget and are being reasonable (and also responsible quasi pet owners). We refuse to budge where our love of dogs is concerned and are determined to find a place that will allow dogs of all breeds, shapes, and sizes.

After a tour of a brand-new, luxury apartment complex complete with a pool, jacuzzi, grilling station, fitness center, etc., Bryan and I turned to each other and shrugged. Meh. Too many breed restrictions. If they think a French bulldog is too agressive, it’s probably not the kind of place we’d like to call home.

“I dunno, Charlotte. It’s like living in a hotel.”

My thoughts exactly. What some consider a desirable way of living seemed like an overpriced apartment complex without much character to us. I’m not sure I want our first living experience to be in a place where everything is readily available and leaks can be fixed in the middle of the night. I think we’d both prefer a bit of a fixer-upper with charm, where we could infuse our own personalities.

I wonder if this guy can come with me when we do move out?

How long did it take you to find your perfect apartment? Were you looking with a roommate? Friend? Significant other?

Also don’t forget about the Shabby Apple giveaway going on now!