An Open Letter to the Things in my Apartment

This recognition is long overdue, and only dawned on me last night.

I’d like to thank my couch for being comfortable, plush, and still incredibly cozy after almost a year of near daily, no hourly, use. You have provided me with a wonderful place to sit, sleep, eat dinner, greet the morning, and hold a conversation. I know I ask a lot of you, and you come through every time.

Besides, where else can I watch re-runs of Seventh Heaven and wonder where my life is going? Certainly not in a chair! We’ve been through a lot together, and I think it's time I say “thanks.”

While I’m at it, I’d also like to publicly thank a few other fixtures in my apartment.

To my desk, you keep staying messy. If I cleared you off, I’d never know where whatever’s piled on you is. You’re my go to piece of furniture when I’m looking for something that involves paper, my wallet, or the computer. Your sturdiness is admirable, and our relationship is very special to me. You know you’re the only thing I slide my legs under 'round the place.

Fridge, I hope you keep things as cool in the future as you’ve done in the past. I trust you to keep my mediocre tasting homemade chili around long enough for me to finish it, not to mention free of stomach-wrenching bacteria. And where else could I overlook a pint of milk until it’s turned into a tofu-like solid? What other appliance would let me do that? And if I haven’t said it before, you just look damn great there in the corner. I’m proud of you, fridgey.

Razor blade, you are a miracle worker. I know I only break you out every few days, but each time I’ve reached for you, you’ve never failed to deliver. Sure we’ve had a few mishaps, but you’re a sharp sliver of metal, blood comes with the territory. I know its nothing personal, and it adds a welcoming element of danger to my personal hygiene regimen. I get it, and I love you for it.

I’m praising all of you because, and this is hard to admit, I’ve taken you for granted.

No, don’t cry, however that’s possible, shhhhh, no no, I’m sorry, this is about me. I should have said something sooner but I didn’t because I thought you knew how I felt about you. You have worked ceaselessly, flawlessly performing your jobs hour after hour, day after day. In hindsight, I see how thoughtless I’ve been and I just want you to know that I appreciate everything you do.

Now I hate to make an example of something here in the apartment, but Microsoft Xbox 360, I need to call you out. I know most of the other things in the place are probably jealous of how much time you and I have spent together – we have had some adventures! - but I’ve logged even more time on the couch you share the room with and only one of you is continually in the mail for repair.

Of course Xbox, you’re a complicated piece of machinery, one infinitely more complex than the razor, couch or desk. But like them, you have one purpose, and since you’re regularly incapable of doing what you’re supposed to, you’ve just become a MicroPainInTheAss, no different than your customer service reps who attempt to diagnose the problem, parrot everything I say by prefacing it with “If I understand you correctly….” then take 3 to 10 business days to examine the issue, call back, and ultimately ask that I send you their way. At least while I wait there’s chili in the fridge, a couch to read on, and an iMac on the desk to order a PS3 if I want.

Things in my apartment, all of you, thank you for your service. I promise to never again take you for granted.

Microsoft and Xbox, I promise I will never bring another one of you into my home again.