For some of you, this is old news. For the rest, a simple warning: moving into an apartment is harder than you think.
I've moved to Muncie three times and I thought I had the process down. It isn't necessarily easy. Stacking all your belongings on the grass behind LaFollette in the rain is a special kind of frustrating. But generally, moving into a dorm isn't a horrible experience, and I expected the same relatively simple procedure when I prepared to move to my first apartment this year.
I had overlooked several major factors. The largest of these?
Furniture.
You might add a bean bag chair to your cinder block cell, but it's basically ready for inhabitants as soon as you arrive. Apartments, on the other hand, start out distressingly empty.
Hauling chairs, futons, tables, beds and dressers adds a whole new level of complexity to the moving process. You need more vehicles, more people and more energy.
I took all the furniture from my bedroom at my parent's house. This was nice for my parents, who needed only to apply a little paint and some new furniture to create a new office. For me, though, it meant a day of boxing up action figures, little league trophies and high school papers for attic storage.
Whatever furniture you can't scavenge must be bought. Believe it or not, the expense of this isn't the bad news. The bad news is written on the box: "Some assembly required."
Whether it's a desk or a simple set of shelves, I promise it will come with too many screws and not enough instructions.
Another complication: You need things in an apartment you would never dream of in a dorm room, and you won't discover them until the worst
possible time. When you realize at 2 a.m. that you really could use a plunger, you will praise God for 24-hour Wal-Marts.
Sadly, that isn't the first time you'll long for the simplicity of dorm living. At around 6 or 7 p.m., after a long day of hauling furniture, a familiar rumbling will begin in your stomach.
It's dinnertime.
I will grant you that the food in the dining halls gets old. Noyer isn't bad, the Atrium has its plusses, and even LaFollette has the famous Buffet, but eating the same food day-in and day-out can wear on you.
Nevertheless, a student who lives on-campus never has to fear going hungry.
Once you leave the safety of the dorms, you have to cook. If you fail to create some kind of edible dish, you simply remain hungry.
Cooking, of course, begins with grocery shopping. This is another new experience for most college students moving into their first place, and
I'm not sure I have it down yet, so I offer only two pieces of advice: 1) Shop with friends. You need all the help you can get. 2) You will discover that Big Lots has great deal on things like lamps, carpet and the aforementioned plunger -- but beware their food.
There is something nice about having a place that's truly your own, but now that I'm here, I realize I will miss certain parts of dorm living.
So, good readers, I'll make you a deal: You can come hang out in a place without quiet hours, visitor sign-in or communal bathrooms whenever you want, as long as you're willing to share your Dining Plus.
Write to Steve at stevehj@mac.com