Apartment Amnesia

There's this thing called Apartment Amnesia, I don't know if anyone else gets it. My sister stupidly entrusted me to go check out this apartment that I'd found in the paper and fill out the application, entirely on my own.

Miracle of miracles we actually got the place, so she asked me to describe it to her and draw a rough floor plan. Somehow I got it into my head that there was a normal bathroom plus an ensuite. I saw things that were not there.

This kind of thing happens to me in department stores. Depending on which entrance I come in by, a door or a lift or an escalator, it looks like a completely different floor and I get disoriented and bewildered. So I think I got loopy from pacing the circuit between the bathroom, the master bedroom and the laundry, all those interconnecting doors, the whole time chanting "Fuck we can't afford this, anyway he'll give it to that lovely rich looking couple, coz we are just kids and I don't even have Rhiannon here to look glamorous ooh look a dishwasher."

"So does it have a dishwasher?" Rhi asked me three days later.

"No it doesn't, sorry."

"What about a clothes dryer?"


"Are you sure? Those apartments usually have a wall-mounted one."

"No, no dryer. But there was definitely two bathrooms! Woohoo!"

So when we picked up the keys yesterday morning, my sister saw the place for the first time.

"Well whaddya know, there's a dishwasher and a dryer."

"Oh, so there is."

"And how do we get to the second bathroom? Is there a secret entrance inside the wardrobe?"

"I guess I must have dreamed up the second bathroom."

"You dickhead!" She didn't stop cackling for a full ten minutes.

Rhi also entrusted me to arrange a removalist to do the Heavy Stuff. We're lugging all the little things ourselves. Anyway, I went through the Yellow Pages and this company because they looked affordable. However, most people would never choose any company that had a U in their company name instead of You. We Move U. Oh U really do, baby.

Anyway they showed up in the filthiest old truck you've ever seen; peeling paint, balding tyres and a yapping fox terrier in the front. The removalists looked like they'd been plucked from the crowd at Summernats, dressed in short shorts and thongs (as in the SHOES, you foreigners) and grotty singlets with that long Rapunzelesque armpit hair that only guys in grotty singlets seem to cultivate.

But they were friendly and very efficient, hurling our crappy furniture into the back of their truck in a very short time. When we arrived at the apartment building, it was clear there was nowhere for them to park. So they ever so casually threw the truck into reverse and barelled over the nature strip, grazing the gardens and stopping just inches short of the mailboxes. What they lacked in class they made up for in strength and speed.

It was nice to let someone else do the grunty part of the move. But now we're on to the little shitty things, clothes and books and kitchen crap. If anyone gets bored and feels like walking up three flights of stairs repeatedly, give me a yell!

About Shauna Reid

Ahoy there! I’m Shauna, an author, copywriter and content mentor. I love telling stories about life and helping others to tell theirs.

Find out more about me and how we can work together – I’m now booking for October 2021.

26 thoughts on “Apartment Amnesia

  1. I have apartment amnesia as well. Between the time I look ata place and the time I move in, rooms, shrink and swell and shrink again, until I’m sure I’ll have to throw half my furniture out – and closets and windows appear and disappear and reappear and in no way correspond to reality.
    Kitchen cupboards too.

  2. I remember almost every place I looked at in my 8 week search for this place. So where is your new place? What suburb I mean.

  3. I walked down three flights of stairs and across a parking lot and up three again, with Bridget, hauling some fairly heavy stuff–Jason was impressed, that’s how heavy this stuff was. Booyah!
    Oh, and congrats on finding a new place that isn’t a roach motel. You know I found a dead roach under my bed two nights ago? Ugh, shudder.

  4. Cool, three flights of stairs is sure to give you nice strong thighs. You will soon be kicking big holes in aparently solid sheet steel, and being able to stomp agressivly.

    On the subject of roaches – they’re pretty endemic in some areas, no escape. You learn to deal with them after a while, just put down roach baits, and replace when you start to see roaches again.

  5. Robert Heinlein visited Australia in the early 1950s, and said that it was a wonderful place, but that it was eerily like the U.S. had been about a generation earlier.

    From your description of the removalists, I’d say that the time difference has now widened to about forty years.

  6. Ha! My last removalists didn’t have anywhere to park their truck either, so they double-parked on a busy Melbourne road. Then I was press-ganged into helping cart my stuff upstairs while one of them handed stuff down from the back of the truck.

    “Why don’t *I* hand stuff down to *you* guys?”

    “Cos you’ll probably drop it on us”.

    Which was true.

    But my place is as small as I remembered it πŸ˜‰

    Enjoy yer new home Shauny!

  7. Congrats on the new apartment. My ‘hubbie’ has house amnesia. We’ve been in our new house for over 2 years & he *still* can’t remember what it looks like when he describes it to friends. It’s a wonder he doesn’t get lost looking for the loo.

  8. Heh. One apartment I lived in for a year (my cousin’s) wasn’t bad,
    – view of the ocean! room of my own!

    And one apartment I lived in was HELL and ruined my life completely. πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚ Maybe I’ll tell that story on VM one day.

  9. Dean – Braddon!

    Graham – well no ocean view here, but a nice view of other people’s places. Maybe someone will be naked soon.

    Monkey to the Diary Room, please!

    Matt – nice to see you hadn’t given up leaving comments for Lent πŸ˜›

  10. Yay congrats! πŸ™‚ (is it fully furnished or just partly?) Our house came with nothing but dirty ceilings and a pair of women’s underpants behind the bathroom door. πŸ™‚ (it is actually a very nice place now.)

  11. Congrats on the new place! I hope you’re settling in well!

    Lucky you didn’t get the removalists we had. They had this strange need to bring everything in upside down, even if the box had a ‘this way up’ label. Not to mention the fact that they obviously skipped commonsense classes (shoving a fan upside-down into a small basket made sense to them…it broke!). At least they didn’t lose the truck, I guess! πŸ™‚

  12. Christen the new place with some sort of christening function/ceremony. Enjoy, shauny!

  13. I bought a house that had two lots of double cupboards down the hallway.

    But they weren’t here anymore by the time we moved it.
    I don’t know who took them, or where they were squeezed into, but there were most definitely here when we saw the house the first time!

  14. Daniel – a singlet is a string-vest-type t-shirt thingy. Kind of like a sleeveless t-shirt, but a lot less classy (if a sleeveless t-shirt can be called ‘classy’ to begin with). I think singlets are called ‘wife-beaters’ in the US. Or maybe that’s just Texas.

  15. yuk, don’t talk to me about moving. i’m moving scarily soon and still haven’t found a place to live or a housemate to live with. everyone who i’d *planned* this move with has had to move back into home after suddenly come down with some terrrible financial disaster, it seems.

    either that, or i smell.

  16. hey.. we call ’em wife beaters here in west belconnen! hehe. i hear that in remote corners of the globe they’re also referred to as ‘spencers’* or maybe even undershirts. or something like that.

    * must be the damned brits.. only the brits could call the humble singlet a ‘spencer’

  17. If you ever get senile, you might end up moving into a garden shed which you thought was a beautiful loft. πŸ˜€

    I’d lend a hand if I were anywhere close by! All you’d have to do would be come pick me up.

Comments are closed.