The "Shithole"

I hate my apartment (dubbed "the shithole").

Don't get me wrong, I don't hate it nearly the way I hated my condo. The condo was an extremely annoying albatross hanging around my neck, which I could not freakin' unload. The shithole is temporary, and can be dumped at any time. It's a different kind of hate.

But I hate it.

I hate that it has no desk.

I hate that I can't record anything on television.

I hate that the washing machine is so small, I have to do five loads of laundry every ten days or so.

I hate that the bathtub drain blows to the point that, whenever I shower, the water raises over my ankles.

I hate that there's no place to hang wet clothes, so I've been forced to put my bras in the dryer, resulting in the death of one bra some weeks ago, and four brand new bras this week.

I hate that there's no trash compactor, so I've got to take my trash out to the trash chute far more frequently than I'd like -- resulting in (a) my washing all of my trash before throwing it out, so the kitchen doesn't smell; and (b) my stacking the tower of trash under the sink like game of Jenga.

I hate that my cat can't scratch where she wants, and will probably destroy the furniture before I leave.

(I hate that there's a "no limit to the amount we can charge you for pet damage" clause in my lease.)

I hate that, when I turned the TV on tonight, it just decided that there'd be no sound.

I hate that there's a bell tower somewhere nearby, which chimes annoyingly on the hour, and wakes me up (although, to be fair, that's saved me from being really late for work a few times).

I hate that the cat hates it, and is still "stress eating."

I hate that it only comes with two sets of keys, so, if I ever decide to vacation, I can't give the cat-sitters their requested two sets.

I hate that I have dishes and silverware for only four, requiring me to run the dishwasher every four days -- or every two on weekends, if I lunch at home.

Basically, I hate the place.

But, when I rented it, my other choice was a smaller unit (a studio rather than a one-bedroom) about 40 minutes away. And every time I starting hating the shithole, I keep coming back to the fact that if I'd taken the other unit, I'd have committed suicide by now.