home sweet home?

Saturday morning was typical- sleep in a bit, put away clean dishes that had dried overnight, tidy up apartment, etc. Suddenly, it occured to me that June 1 marked four years of my living in my apartment. That somehow was the strangest thought to me (partly because that means that July 4 is FIVE years that I've lived in DC!). 

First of all, when I moved into this apartment, I certainly didn't expect that I'd stay here for four years. It's small- it's an efficiency/studio (what is the difference, seriously?). When you walk in the door, there is one large (ha) room. On the left is a small closet and on the right is a large walk-in closet. On the same wall as the walk-in, is the bathroom, and just after the bathroom is another very small room that I call the nook. It's not large enough to be terribly useful; but that is where my dresser lives. On the left wall is the kitchen, but it's a galley kitchen- you walk through a doorway to get there. The apartment faces the front of the building and I have four large windows, which is very nice, as they let in a lot of light and I face the street, including a bus stop and a small park and jungle gym. The apartment has hardwood floors, crown molding around the doorways and a built-in cabinet in the kitchen. Inside, it's a cute little apartment, but the outside begs to differ. 

It's an older building and needs a lot of work, but of course, management doesn't do anything to keep up with it. To be honest, I am embarrassed to have people here, because I find it so horrendous looking. Plus, there is the issue that I've mentioned before, about the raise in crime in the area. Awesome. 

I'm sure you're thinking "hmmm Lexilooo, why not move into the house that your boyfriend bought last fall and live with him?" I know, I think it too. For a long, long time, I thought that is was best (for me personally, not in general) to wait until marriage to live together. Honestly though? I didn't think that four years later, I'd still be living in my little apartment, sans sparkle on that all important finger. Moving in here, we'd been together for not quite a year, so it wasn't even a thought in my mind to live with him. I figured we'd see where the relationship went. Here it is, seemingly the same (not exactly, but you know what I mean). Four years ago, when I told him that I wanted to wait until marriage, he seemed fine with it. Now, when my mind may have changed a bit and maybe I want to live with him, he seems to think it's better to wait. For what? I don't know. I feel like my life has become one big waiting game and I don't like it. 

So what to do? Do I look for a new apartment, a bigger one, where I could have a puppy and a sewing machine and people over for wine and cheese? Or, do I stay where I am now and continue to wait for something better, with le boy?