A Year of Living Dangerously

It was a year ago this week that I moved into my apartment.

It is in a "charming" building in Des Moines' historic neighborhood of Sherman Hill. The building was built before the 1920's as a convalescence and has the one of very first elevator installed in Iowa, which is still functional today. It also has a nuclear fallout shelter - which is now a creepy storage area. It has the potential to be a cool place, if my landlord slumlord would maintain the up-keep of the property.

The unit I'm in is on the second floor. It has a cramped kitchen, awkward bathroom, but plenty of storage space - especially when I asked the Murphy bed to removed and converted it into another closet.  And despite the haphazard attempts by the slumlord to make it "presentable" - like the missing wall panel behind my fridge, that exposes my shower/tub's plumbing or the radiator that hasn't been clean in years and has collected all sorts of allergens, and the shared laundry facility - I would dare say that it's not that bad. It's proximity to my office, downtown, and pretty much all of the cool things makes it an okay place to live in.  It is a good apartment if it's your first time living on your own.

But as it turns out, I'm actually allergic to my apartment.  It has a lot to do with that all of the cat people in my building.  Unfortunately, I have some irresponsible pet parents for neighbors - plus the fact that my slumlord did not do a good job cleaning my apartment before I moved in.  For the past year, I have been slowly making myself sick by living in a place where I am exposed multiple things that I am allergic to.

I am moving back with my family in the burbs while I find a suitable new place.

So, yeah... it turns out that I am allergic to cats.