My favorite apartment is the one I currently live in. I moved in one year ago and it was a major downsize for me. I also went through some major life changes at the time. When I moved in I took the time to paint and decorate and improve the place in ways I'd never done in any previous home... even though I am a renter I changed out the knobs in the kitchen, some of the light fixtures, and painted every single wall in the place. I love it here and my landlords love what I've done to their investment too (not always the case when you make changes, so I know I'm lucky)! I just negotiated a decrease in my rent and signed a 2 year lease. I've got a few more improvement projects to tackle now that I'm going to be sticking around that will make me love the place even more.

We just made a cross-country move from Chicago to Denver. I was sad to leave our quaint 1920s apartment by the lake, but it was mostly because our daughter was born (at home) there.

even places i was miserable in were hard to leave

I was sad to leave my apartment when my bf and I bought a place. We'd lived there 7 years, including much of our university studies. I gave the place a good top-to-bottom cleaning before turning over the keys....there was something therapeutic about giving it one last loving service before saying goodbye.

I lived in an older duplex with lots of charm and character right after I divorced in my mid-twenties. Not only was the place adorable and in a good location, it was a symbol of how good my life could be. My friends and I still talk about how great the place was. Besides the home my husband, son and child on the way live in now it will is my favorite.

A few years ago, I lived in a third-floor walk up that was situated above a used book store. It had many hidden alcoves, a beautiful kitchen, lots of sunlight. I could go on and on. I classified the apartment as "so me" and I always looked forward to coming home.

For cost-saving reasons, my boyfriend and I decided to move in together into a slightly larger home not too far away. The change was extremely difficult for me, as I felt my apartment was an extension of myself. As a result, the move truly made me evaluate what is worth compromising in relationships. I spent my last night in the apartment (sans furniture) crying for what I was losing - and for what the space had offered me.

My boyfriend (who is now my husband) and I had a few rough months after that, but it all worked out. I am still grateful for that beautiful space and will remember it always.

I've moved out of loads of apartments in the past 40 years, never looking back but always looking forward to stylizing the new digs. The only move that caused angst was moving from the only house I ever owned. Husband gone, house sold, feeling sad for the losses.
But this next move will prove harder still.
I'd moved into my parents sweet house in the loveliest of neighborhoods after they both passed away. My mother went nearly a year ago, my dad three years ago. Now my brother and sister both want their share of the house and I can't manage to buy them out. So I must move. Since I lived nearby all these years this house has more emotional attachments for me than the two siblings who moved to opposite ends of the country ages ago. I've lived in this same hometown for 35 years and to be in their house is bittersweet. I dread this move. I can't convey the angst I feel. 'Shocking' will be when I see it completely emptied, a vision I didn't have until I just read this post. Thank you for helping me get started down that road. If I can visualize it empty and welcoming to a new and young family maybe I can get through it. Visualizing where I'm moving has consumed me in a good and positive way. But what I'm leaving behind will be a life altering experience; irrevocable and permanent.

I loved my little apartment in Alexandria, VA. Hardwood floors, lovely views, and ample room for one (about 600 square feet). It was close to everything and I could even ride my bike to work. It takes creativity to find storage, but I liked that challenge.

Correction: I've lived in and around this hometown 53 years. I'll continue living here but in a smaller, more manageable place. I'm buying a 30' yurt. There will be loads to post about after the big move.

I have lived in a different apartment every year for the last 8 years, including across the country and back again (obscene, I know, but it's taught me what possessions I truly value!). My last apartment (not what I'm currently in) was my favorite, and would have stayed several years, if my common-law partner at the time hadn't been accepted at university 3000 km's away. We broke up a month after our move for school, and I often think of who is now loving my last home sweet home. Ahh, heartbreak.

I used to live in a small one bedroom on the ground floor of a three story row house in Queen, NY. Renovated the apartment- painted, put new wood floors. The biggest plus is the huge backyard that I cleaned and landscaped. My neighbors were so appreciative of me cleaning and beautifying what they call the 'health hazard'. Also motivated them to take good of their yards even more. Lived with my two rescued dogs. I have to move out after the owners decided to sell the building. Those were some of the best years. Sadly the apartment is gone and my two dogs have since passed. Only the pictures reminded me of those poignant times.

Our last apartment wasn't anything super special - just a box apartment with boring carpet, but it was really hard to leave it. Our son was born there and it was when we truly became a family. And we were leaving, not because we had found a better place, but because of unemployment. It was very difficult.

This last weekend, in fact, my BF and I moved out of my favorite apartment of my life... and into a house -- A real-life, omg-it-has-a-yard, stunned-silence-then-applause HOUSE. So I have to say, it's an upgrade.

But after my hands hurt from the bleach solution I used to scrub out the tub and porcelain sink, after the aches had set into my shoulders after repainting my beautiful yellow kitchen back to boring beige, while sitting on the one chair left in the apartment so that I could stand on it and dust the door moldings... I realized that I was really going to miss my apartment.

It has beautiful, huge, sunny windows, and with the sunlight streaming through them halfway through Saturday afternoon, sadness swirled around in my heart. The boys had moved most of the furniture out, and I was left, here in the apartment I'd fallen in love with, and I remembered the fun times we'd had in it...the meals we'd served...the friends we'd had over... Heck, even the doorhooks almost made me cry because our five year old was so excited when she had a place of her own to hang her coat.

At somewhere around 11pm on Saturday, we packed up the kitties (who always go last, the poor things), did one last cupboard search, turned out all of the lights, and wobbled our tired legs back down to the car. Halfway home, with the boyfriend in the passenger seat snoozing and holding an open box with flowers and plants on his lap, and with the kitties crying in the back of the SUV, I realized:

We have a house. With huge, sunny windows and beautiful hardwood floors... and a garage! And a patio! And garden space! And a yard! And a huge kitchen! And...and...and... ;) I realized at that moment that things weren't going to be so bad, and I suddenly didn't miss my apartment that much anymore.

If you love the old place so much - Why are you leaving?

As a Military Brat - Moving was simple:
Orders came, Dad made the announcement, we got the package of info about the new place, and the movers showed up in a few weeks to box everything up and we drove away - No time or energy wasted on looking back when there was so much to do to and look forward to.

I moved into an apartment on Connecticut Ave. in DC, planning to stay there just six months until I found a quieter place. Seven years later I said good-bye to that fabulous 1940's one bedroom with three walk-in closets where I'd lived from ages 26 to 33. But I was off on a new adventure, with a man I'd met while hiking in Peru...

my last apt was in the fall colors finals twice. i LOVED it. it was my first studio & it was the first place i totally unpacked in. i had to edit myself like crazy. i think it made me know myself better.

it was sad to move, but i left it to get married & live w/ my husband. & decorating w/ another person's things? that's a whole new challenge!

I had a lovely little on-bedroom with garage parking in Long Beach that was difficult to leave. It was two blocks from the ocean, great light, etc. I left it to be with my then-boyfriend (now husband) in Chicago. The apartment wouldn't fit my life now, but I'm always homesick for California.

ugh - ONE-bedroom

I still find myself missing my first apartment. The stairway was too narrow, the neighbors were loud, the neighborhood was busy, there was no off-street parking, and the building manager was unreliable, but it was my first home.
My first apartment - dubbed "Taliawesome" by myself and my roommate due to our mutual love of Frank Lloyd Wright - was a mere 700 square feet. The bedrooms were in no way proportional. The living room was cozy. The kitchen was huge for that size of a place, had a gorgeous built-in and, until we cleaned it up, our "art" of spaghetti on the wall over the stove. There's an archway in the living room, and a really cool switchplate that I loved.

Since this was my first foray into being a grown-up, I didn't know much about apartment life. I had to first find a roommate. I moved in with a karaoke bar friend of mine, a circus performing barista, and he became my very best friend.

Before we left, but after we had cleaned the place, I took pictures of every room, and all of my favorite things.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2022898&id=144300396&l=d80685c3be
After we moved out, we went to the karaoke bar where we met and sang the Barenaked Ladies song, "The Old Apartment." I still miss that place.

The only apartment I lived in as an adult was when I met the guy who would eventually marry the heck out of me. It was a pretty good size, but I wish I had found this website back then. We had just had it with the the neighbors and how unsafe it felt to come home. That always made me sad because we had intended to be there for a while. We shared a lot of memories and first there - first kiss, first Christmas tree, a marriage proposal, a wedding, a few scary medical moments, and the first thanksgiving we ever hosted around a crowded table. When we packed everything up, it just didn't feel like our place anymore. Thankfully, a few hours of scrubbing took any lingering emotional attachments right out of me.

The condo I lived in before my current one was a sweet 5-suite heritage building with heaps of character. It had some flaws, though: it needed a lot of repairs, there was a homeless guy living in the boiler room where I did my laundry, it had literally no soundproofing between suites, no garage so my car was exposed to the elements and inner-city crime, and it was costing me an arm and a leg. Which is why I moved to my current, newer, more modern condo. But not a day goes by where I don't miss the fireplace, the crown moulding, the sunroom, the great deck, the huge tress, the clawfoot tub, the sunlight pouring in through the windows and the amazing neighbourhood... *sighsies*

i've lived in 4 apartments since moving out on my own at 19. my very first apartment was my favorite, primarily because it was all mine and signified my independence. but it was also extremely charming--a 1920s spanish-style building with hardwood floors and high ceilings. it was billed as a junior-one-bedroom. the "bedroom" was separated from the living room by glass french doors and had a huge bay window in it. the bathroom was accessed through a huge walk-in closet--very carrie's apt in sex & the city. the bathroom had the original sconces and subway tile and the deepest tub i've ever seen. i rented it in 1993 for $430 a month!

I was very attached to a house we had to leave, until the sixteen-year-old surveyor sent by the owner reported that the garden I had made was 'over-planted'! What does that mean?

I realised there and then that I didn't OWN it, and after that moving just became a fact, not an ordeal.

Hrm, I never really felt sad about leaving any apartments. What I had a really hard time with, was leaving my parents in the first place. I was fortunate enough to stay there during my university years, and we had moved there when I was one year old.

Twenty two years in the same house was bound to create an attachment. After that, the short stints in apartments didn't mean very much to me.

Now that we're in our own house, however, I think our next move will be very, very difficult. We've done a lot of hard work to make it our own, and I'll have a tough time handing it over to someone else who might not treat it as well.

I loved my railroad style apartment in San Francisco! The long hall with the rounded ceilings, the bow window in the livingroom that overlooked leafy green backyards and the TA Pyramid in the distance, the kitchen cabinets that went up to the ceiling, the deep clawfoot bathtub, the ironing board in the wall and a cabinet that hung off the building that was sided with screening for the storage of root vegetables.

Happened to me at my last move. First time I ever got emotional moving out. Didn't hit me at all til' I was literally walking out the door for the last time. Then like 5 or 6 memories flashed my mind.

I lived in my last place for more than 17 years. I fully expected to have that "moment" when I was ready to leave. I even planned on walking around, reviewing the memories. But what really happened was after cleaning out 17 years worth of stuff over 6 weeks I was ready to just toss the keys at my landlady on the way out. I've been gone for 6 months now and haven't really missed the place at all. My new place is by far my favorite and getting better all the time.

When I bought my current home, I was very sad to leave my lovely apartment that I had lived in for 10 years. It was a 4th floor walk up with a gorgeous skyline view. There was only 1 washer and dryer for 21 apartments, so I definitely didn't miss THAT. And I didn't miss the fact that you could only run one appliance at a time or risk having to go down to the basement to change out the one fuse that whole apartment ran off. But it was my home. I scraped the 7 layers of wallpaper when I moved in and painted it myself. It was a charming, wonderful apartment. It broke my heart a little when the building recently burned down because of an electrical fire.

I've had the same apt for about 27 years, and it will break my heart to move -- I love the space, and I LOVE the block and neighborhood. And for now it works for my partner, too, but it will always seem like "my apt" and we coudl really use a little more space in the city, and a more stable situation (It's rent stabilized, and I am not confident the rules will stay forever. And even if so, the battles with the landlord certainly will!)

After my partner's son goes to college, we will sell his/our suburban CT condo (in which we just redid the kitchen!) and rearrange our living situation -- most likely buying in NY. Much as I don't love being in CT, I do love the space we have there. So it will be a double blow -- leaving 2 spaces with great history. My partner has no idea what a blubbering idot I will be. BUT I will see to it that wherever we move is a place I can love, too!

I hate moving. The packing and sorting sucks, of course, but moving always disturbs me at an emotional level that is sort of irrational.

@Mid-C Frank, not to throw a wrench in your plans, but there are rules in NYC that if you make below a certain amount (I think it's around 80-100k) and are above 65, rent stabilization can't be revoked. At least, it was true in whatever stabilization had been used in my old bldg where our best friend-neighbor fell into those rules even though the other places could go to market rate. She wanted our apartment, but it would have negated her stabilization.

I moved 8 times in the last year and a half..(being a student in Amsterdam is fun, but the housing is horrible!)

So I've cried a lot..but never because I loved it so much. Always because i HAD to go (temporary room) and once because my landlord didn't pay his bills so (because my house was part of his house) I had to move thesame day.

Right now I live in a great appartment..which I can stay in for years to come..so I've made it my home. Obviously I still feel 'the-moving-bug' from time to time but when I leave here I'll cry because I will miss it so much. :)

I really miss all the historic apartments I lived in back in Boston and Providence. I miss their character, old hardwood floors, moldings and pocket doors. We recently moved to southern California from Providence to a single level built in the 80's house with very little character and it's been driving me insane. We moved here so my fiance could be close to his family for a while (my family is on the east coast) and so that he could finally have a professional music studio. We're also living rent free, the other main reason for the move. But trying to instill some depth and character into this house has been a serious challenge.

I absolutely loved and miss my first apartment after college, a studio apartment on the top floor of a Georgian house on a crescent in London. It had laminate "wooden" flooring, and the carpet in the hall could have absolutely used replacing; I had to pay the electricity via a pre-paid card that went into a meter in my room and I had to heat up water by switching a flip prior to use, but I LOVED it. It was huge for a studio (half the floor), had a large window that looked out into the interior of a crescent, roof garden access, a private park for which I still have the key, and it was in the absolutely lovely neighborhood of Earls Court. Plus the property manager was a gem.

I'm moving back to London in 4 months for grad school and was checking out some listing on gumtree (their equivalent of craigslist), and was delighted to see that the same manager is still running the building, and the listings are still in my budget! I might be living with my best friend who's coming as well, in which case we'd find a 2 bedroom, but if I need a studio I know where I'll be checking first!!

I looked for an apartment that specifically had high ceilings, tall windows, and hardwood floors. I found it and lived there almost two years. I would have loved to live there forever, but financial considerations dictated otherwise. Leaving was heart-wrenching. But now I have a house with high ceilings, tall windows, hardwood floors, and a husband with all the qualities I was looking for. I had to let go of the small but perfect apartment to find a place and a person to share my life. Net gain.

Our favorite apartment was our first place once we moved back to our hometown. We had been away for 3 years, from 18 to 21 years old, so we were happy to get back. It was a fantastic lay-out for us, they were great about us having pets, we had a front and back entrance (in a 1br, this is almost UNHEARD OF)....fantastic vintage building features (telephone cubby, antique stove, checkered floors, moldings galore and a sweet old toilet without a tank).

We lived here throughout our first year of living back in our hometown, and was the place we 'honeymooned' since our wedding left us pretty broke. Lounging in our apartment for an entire week was a welcome idea and I can honestly say we didn't leave the house once and didn't have cabin fever at all.

Anyway, when we acquired too much stuff and the place kept feeling more cramped...we decided to move to another building a couple blocks away. We never thought we were feel so strongly about our beloved Woodland Ave apartment until everything was packed and we were cleaning the place up.

It was only 4 blocks away from our new apartment, but I always find myself taking a detour to drive by and see if anyone is living there.

When we eventually downsized, we thought about going back to our beloved apartment...but alas it was rented.

crazy how a space/time can make you feel so nostalgic.

I don't miss and never missed a ny of the temporary places I lived, including all the many apartments.

I kind of missed out last house for a while -- I spent more than 15 years landscaping the yard with wildflowers and starts from friends... things I can't totally replace and couldn't take with me. Since our new house wasn't finished when we moved to another apartment for a few months, and I couldn't keep transplants alive that long, they all were left behind. The new owners promised I could come back the next spring and get some starts, but they refused to return my phone messages asking to set that up, so that's that.

Still, they are only plants, and some of them I can probably duplicate. And the new house is much nicer... so I don't really miss the old one after all.

My favourite apartment would have to be the one i grew up in. it was right across the road from my school & it was close to everything. I dont live very close to it anymore but now that im married with 2 kids of my own, everytime i drive past it i get emotional, in a good way. It was tiny, had really itchy carpet, ugly vinyl in the kitchen, plumbing problems, a bathroom lock which sometimes locked you into the bathroom, the WERIDEST patterned ceiling ive ever seen & a tiny tiny balcony, but i loved it! i think that tiny, not-so-perfect home created my love for tiny not-so-perfect spaces. The home i am renting now with my family is TINY and far from perfect but as a family we've worked together into making it our home. Even with the out dated carpet, old school vinyl, tiny bathroom with weird flooring, electric power points in weird places, paint flaking off on the exterior & a tiny kitchen which has forced the fridge out into to dining room, home just happens to be my favourite place to be.

Oh, I wanted to read about why you were going to miss it, what it was like while you lived there!

in the almost 30 years since i left my mother's home, i've lived in 6 places.

the first one has a special place in my heart because it was the first. it was a plain box in a late 50s vintage building in downtown Toronto and i had no air conditioning the entire time i lived there.

i was young and into Monet and painted the whole place in pink and turquoise and my friends called it The Pink Palace. after i moved out to go to Ottawa (due to losing my job and getting engaged to someone who lived there), i got on the train and cried my eyes out.

when i lived in Ottawa with my sister after my engagement ended, we had an apartment on the 19th floor of a building not far from downtown with "the view" - straight up the Rideau Canal to Parliament Hill. it had 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms and a wrap-around balcony that provided a spectacular view of the Canada Day fireworks.

for 7 years running, we hosted a Canada Day party for all our friends. we'd fill a bathtub with ice for all our friends to put their drinks in - they'd come by the day before the party or the morning of to drop off libations before heading downtown to the festivities. then, as evening came, everyone would head back to our place for snacks and cake and cool drinks in air conditioned comfort after being out in the sun and heat all day. and we'd all sit on the balcony and watch the fireworks.

it was perfect!

we also had a great vantage point for the balloon festival.

the day i left to come to London for my new job - i wept my eyes out.

but here i've been able to afford to buy my little house and i live closer to my (now elderly) mother who needs to have at least one of her daughters near by.

Last year, I suffered along with the rest of the economy and got laid off. Fortunately for me, my boyfriend and I moved up our moving-in plans, so I came out okay on the financial side. But leaving my beautiful little (and final) bachelorette pad was heartbreaking.

It was my first post-college apartment on my own. It was my first city-girl digs. It was the first place that was mine and mine alone, and I'd made it perfect. I furnished on a half a shoestring budget, with the beautiful, charming, eclectic style that I'd admired on AT for years. This place WAS me.

When I moved out, I got rid of everything but a few personal items, a desk, and my couch (gorgeous green faux suede I'd gotten on CL... it is now on permanent loan to a friend with HER first apartment). My blue painted dining chairs. My clusters of unique, secondhand finds. My schoolhouse desk. My wingback chairs. My handpainted dresser. I felt like I was losing me in that move (along with my recently lost job... I felt like I had lost a lot).

I cried and cried, and it was a supremely difficult time. But in the end, it's turned out well: I've been able to go back to school, and will start my career as a teacher next year. And the boy and I have made his home 'ours' as I've injected my sense of whimsy and style into his modern townhome. We're brilliantly happy. So as with all loss, there is a great potential for gain.

I just wrote a book about this! A memoir! Because I lived in 39 apartments over 20 years. And I describe the apartment - 285 Mott -- that it broke my heart to leave. Three years later, it still breaks my heart. I think of that place almost every day. It was my home. But, after leaving, my life opened up in all sorts of amazing ways, ways that I couldn't have foreseen when I was packing up Mott Street. And even though I miss it, it wouldn't have been suitable for more than one person -- and I met my fiance about 6 months after leaving. And now, we are both living across the country in Los Angeles in a huge open loft. Heartbreak and resurrection seem to come together, or at least, in very short order.

My current apartment is my first apartment. In general, I love it. It's in a great location, it's a great size, and I've got a landlady who was thrilled to let an interior design student play around with her property. I will be moving out at the end of June. I got my first job in another city and, unfortunately, I have to leave.

However, for the last two months of our lease, a friend will be staying with my roommate and me. I'm happy to let her stay, but the living room and dining room have now become cluttered storage rooms full of boxes. My home, which is usually spotless, now makes me uncomfortable and anxious. I can't wait to move out.

It upsets me that I don't get to enjoy my last months in my first home. Maybe it's good for me though. It'll make me appreciate my new home much more.

I've lived in three apartments in the 25 years since I moved out on my own. The first apartment, a second floor one bedroom in a Jersey City two-family, was home for 16 years. It was small, the neighborhood was so-so, but I stayed because it was convenient to Manhattan, provided a nice reverse commute to NJ job centers and best of all, it was cheap, an important issue on a limited budget. I think the biggest revelation on moving was the realization that I had engineered the storage so well that the contents of that 700 sq ft. apartment filled up a 1200 sq ft. house. I hated leaving because I had put so much of myself into the place.

The next apartment was the fulfillment of a country living fantasy I had for years; half of a two-family on 4 acres, high on a hill above the Delaware River. I so loved the place that I was thankful every day of the 5 years I had the privilege of living there so I carefully designed and decorated the space to take maximum advantage of its spectacular setting. Unfortunately, the idyllic life had a dark side in the form of a mentally ill landlord. When I finally had enough of his schizophrenia, I left, stripping the apartment of every speck of my improvements until the day I walked out the door for the last time, the apartment looked exactly as it did when I first saw it.

Occasionally, I have driven by the place, glancing at the house momentarily, then gazing at the view. Today I live in a huge apartment that's done miracles for my budget, but in the middle of a city instead of farms. I love the apartment and the building, plus I kept a Delaware River view. Nevertheless, I do miss country living. Maybe one day I'll go back.

i just moved out of my favorite apartment today.

the worst part of leaving is that i lose the favorite person in my life on top of the move.

she felt like home more than any place i've ever known.

I don't know how they fit two bedrooms in 900 sq ft. Plenty of room for extra roommates when life required it. On the plaza in old town Eureka. Didn't need a Christmas tree because they lit up the redwood outside our window. Bars, art galleries, street fairs, the bay, whatever we wanted was right outside.

The apartment I live in now is actually the top floor of a house. It is small and clean with a few touches of character for me but still removed (half a mile but so private) for my husband. It has more than enough room to grow - especially if the neighbor in the basement ever moves out and the leasing company decides to sell. We've lived in so many disastrous houses/apartments over the past five years, and we finally moved into one with working heat in a place I love. Being happy with an apartment is a big deal for me, but LOVING the apartment is something I never thought possible. I love it because it doesn't feel like a placeholder until something better comes along. I love it because the walls are white and the floors are wood. The yard is nice, and it wasn't our "last option" but the BEST option.

Ah. We left the apartment we lived in the longest 6 months ago.

It wasn't exactly 'beloved,' but our son grew up there. It's a 714 sqft 2 bedrooms, renovated...very lovely aesthetically unfortunately, it has some foundation, roof and mold problem (we found it out 6 months before we left for our first house). The management tried to help with the mold and roof problems as best as they can (hey, can't help that the building wasn't built well).

::sigh::
I did miss the apartment (despite my complains when we found out the roof was leaking, and there was mold in our closet) LOL. We made friends there, our son has his friends in the same complex, we know the area very well and it's only 4 minutes away drive from our work and a minute away from a grocery shop (we walk everywhere there).

But of course the 'missing' feeling only lasted for like a month, now I totally appreciate our first new house :) We enjoy putting our signature on it. We can do many things and we're not answering to any rental management!

Here's something I wish someone had told me 25 years ago: Take photos of every place you ever live. Document the details. Take pictures of your dorm room. Take photos of the huge walk-in closet in that tiny studio apartment. The old ice box in the Beverly Hills one bedroom. Because even if you live in a place for years, your memories will fade, and you won't even remember where the bathroom was. Plus, you'll be saving extra details that will only become important to you later. You'll see what was stuck to your fridge, hanging on your walls, filling your closets, covering your windows, and you will smile!

Oh what timing on this post. I just sold my condo, my first place that was ever just all mine. I was ok until I loaded up the last of the cleaning supplies. I realized that was the last time I would ever lock the door behind me. We close at 3 pm today and I will be on my way back to NYC. So bittersweet.

my husband and i are moving from our beloved ucla graduate housing next week. we really made it our own by installing new fixtures, painting, etc- totally worth the reduced deposit. it was a fantastic deal for a relatively new apartment in the westside. sniff.

I lived in a small studio apartment in los feliz in los angeles ca that I loved. Loved the neighborhood, and the apartment had great features, older, with high ceilings, no neighboring buildings so privacy wasn't ever an issue, etc. I finally moved after years over to the Westside to be closer to a new job, but my apartment now is just a space with no character or charm. I still miss that apartment and that neighborhood, and every time I go back I get really nostalgic. I plan on moving back over there one day.

I loved reading all of your stories, by the way.

I just counted up all of the places I've lived since finishing college in 2001: 13 different addresses. I cried when I left at least half of those places - sometimes because of what the move signified (end of a relationship, leaving town when I wasn't ready) or because of powerful memories associated with the place. In fact, I can think of only one move where I was genuinely happy and had no regret about leaving, where we slammed the doors and flipped the bird as we drove away.

While my husband isn't nearly as sentimental about things as I am, we've definitely become more bonded to our places in the last 2-3 years - we've also become serious homebodies now that we're out of grad school and in 9-5 jobs. Coincidence?

I just ran across this post. I moved out of my First Apartment yesterday! It was a two bedroom, three bath craftsman dream. I found it after moving off campus my sophomore year at college. There are so many wonderful firsts about the place. So many great college memories. It's really hard to day goodbye. It was so weird leaving the key on the countertop and knowing that when I shut the door it's wouldn't be our apartment anymore...but I'm reminded of one of my favorite Dr. Seuss quotes: "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."
My lease was up and I'm moving out to California for grad school in 6 Weeks. I know it was time.

To new and better apartments.