Book Review: We Were Liars

For as long as I can remember, I've been an avid reader. I embody almost every stereotype about a bookworm: begging to stay awake for "just one more chapter", laying by the window with the streetlamp to keep reading when my previous request was denied, burning through The Baby Sitter's Club books and moving on to my mom's Danielle Steel collection in elementary school, garnering the most Accelerated Reader points in middle school, being a regular at the library and having to have a dedicated library tote big enough for all of my books in high school. . .the works. One of my friends calls me Gretchen Grundler, from Recess; Jon calls me Twilight Sparkle.

image via Disney Wikia

When we moved into our new place, I had a vision for a small space near the front of our apartment and conveyed it to Jon, who agreed it was perfect - thus, my reading nook was born. 

#ApartmentLife : My Reading Nook. On the opposite wall is a bookcase (although, admittedly, I'm a Kindle girl these days).

All of this to say: I like to read.

#ApartmentLife: Happy Holidays Edition

Growing up, I used to insist that living in an apartment would be way better than living in a house. You can say that television is to blame for this, and I might even agree with you, but apartments symbolized cool to me. They were everything city, everything bright lights and busy streets, everything that my rinky dink depressed hometown was absolutely not.

Flash forward: I am a grown up (I think? I'm supposed to be anyway, right?) and I am living in an apartment and it is damn cool, so there. 

Jon's and my homestead trajectory has been pretty simple, fortunately. Our furthest move has been 3.4 miles.

image via Pittsburgh Neighborhoods Wikipedia | The gold stars are us. . .approximately. ;)