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Circular driveway, Penthouse Apartment, 24/7 Security, Key Fob Access, Walk-in Closet, Subway Tile backsplash in the brand new kitchen, biggest bathroom I’ve EVER had…
CAN YOU HONESTLY SAY YOU’RE TURNED ON BY THE HOME YOU’VE CREATED FOR YOURSELF?
One night, I was waiting for a food delivery. As I drafted a text message to the guard in the lobby to let them know a delivery would be coming, I had to choose a word to refer to the floor I live on.
See… three years before that night my boyfriend and I moved out of the apartment with his mom and her boyfriend on the lease, where we were sleeping on couches, into our second apartment together. We still live here. It’s on the top floor of a high-rise in Northeast Philadelphia, overlooking one of the city’s beautiful parks, with a balcony, and a totally brand new kitchen and bathroom with motherfuckin’ subway tile.
We were so excited, and relieved, and did I mention EXCITED?! A space of our own again, that we could do with as we please, and where we were meant to be. And another cool thing: while the building’s other floors have numbered buttons in the elevator, the button for my floor says “PH” for penthouse.
(AND you have to swipe a key fob to even PRESS the button for the penthouse! Like, kind neighbors who live below us who get on the elevator first ask where we’re going so they can press the button for us, and we have to say, “I’ve gotta get it, thank you!”)
Like… We’re fucking special.
Chris has, since we moved in, called us “penthouse people,” with ownership, pride. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t call the floor we live on anything other than the “10th floor.” I would never dare say penthouse.
But that night 3 years after we moved in, as I drafted the text to the guard… I realized why I wasn’t just typing the word “penthouse.” It dawned on me that I had a block about referring to my home using this one specific term for fear of sounding like a pompous jerk.
As soon as I realized WHY I wanted to censor myself on this (and have done for years), I also realized I had to push myself to do it, even if I was squirming. Because my next level? It may be a bigger apartment… but it’s definitely going to be on the penthouse floor. Because after all…
I’m a Penthouse person.
And as I write this, I realize that perhaps the “key” to upleveling into a bigger apartment, which has felt out of reach for me, was deciding that I AM a Penthouse person.
Owning who you are (or will be at the next level, knowing you can call in the next level right now by adopting that identity), after all, is one of the keys to getting what you want.
In fact, writing the paragraph above about the high-rise, subway tile, park-view apartment that I was feeling dull about got my blood racing. I’m turned on when I tell you about this amazing thing I manifested for myself and my boyfriend.
Shit, I forgot to mention the WALK IN CLOSET.
All my life I DREAMED of a walk in closet. NOW? It’s my fucking *normal* reality.
Like fuck me! I FORGOT how AMAZING my home is. And for me to call in a bigger apartment on the same floor (my next level home), I get to remember how awesome this is, and that I created it for us!