Your apartment is probably, definitely, absolutely a mess.

I mean, if it’s not, good on you for actually cleaning over the weekend. Or for having the wherewithal to keep up with yourself on the daily. But if you’re like me, you spent your weekend snoozing your alarm, not taking the trash out, forgetting to fold your laundry, and in the back of your mind wondering how your parents ever did it all; and then you went back to work on Monday and stared down another five days of being “too tired” after a “long day” to clean when you got home.

The thing is, I do like cleaning. It’s a commitment of time and energy, sure, and knowing that, it tends to be the last thing I make time for. But when I actually put the effort forward, when I sigh and get off the couch and pick up the Clorox, I get it done and I enjoy it and I’m happier when I’m finished.

Because every time I get my space looking right, I’m reminded of the privilege it is to call a space my own. I am carving out a corner of the world that is mine to take care of, mine to invest in, mine to commit to. I have landed in the place where I have, for so long, wanted to land. I have found my way into the life I longed for and now it is up to me to steward it well.

There is so much in my life that I can’t control, so much I have trouble letting go of and trusting in. But a clean apartment? That’s on me. And I can handle it.

Paying rent is hard, and I don’t remember dust collecting this quickly when I was a kid. But having a place to live and love and grow in—whether it’s a rented apartment, a long-term home, or a sublet in between—is a privilege that I don’t want to go unchecked. So if you’re with me, pour yourself a drink, cancel your plans, and crank the speakers.

It’s chores night and it’s gonna rock.

“Dream of Mickey Mantle” // Bleachers

This is the track that gets you off the couch and on your feet before you even realize how motivated you are. By the time you hit that drum pickup after the first chorus, you’ll be dancing broom in hand.

“Stuck Like Glue” // Sugarland

This song is all springtime to me, all fresh air and windows open. Break out the Windex and get that glass sparkly clean while you sample the harmony part on this one.

“Junk” // Vivienne Chi

You’re dusting off shelves, wiping down surfaces, and ohhhh THAT’S where you put that stack of receipts/hid those old takeout containers when Mom came to visit/put that so-uncomfortable-but-so-cute pair of heels! Get rid of the junk, girl. And then move on.

“Juice” // Ycee ft. Maleek Berry

Ideally at this point, you’ve had many glasses of wine, the apartment is starting to smell all clean, and you are sliding across clean floors in your socks as smooth as this song sounds. (You know you’ve been wanting to.)

“Lookin’ For” // Digital Farm Animals ft. Danny Ocean

Boppy enough to get you through whatever task you put off til the end, chill enough to savor when you finally flop back on the couch and admire your handiwork. You live in this space. It’s yours, for today. And it looks damn good in here.

Meet the Author

Melissa Warten

Melissa graduated Boston College in 2016 with a double major in English and philosophy. She loves Ultimate Frisbee, Hamilton, Harry Potter, and ice cream, and thinks most problems can be solved with a nap, an iced coffee and the right Spotify playlist. She hopes to work in publishing.

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Windrose Magazine is your guide to navigating life in your twenties through a collection of essays, interviews, and advice that will inspire you to chart your own life course, free of comparison.

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Featured

The End of An Era: Saying Goodbye to Windrose

Hi friends,

Announcement (sounds so formal, doesn’t it?):

It's the end of an era.

I’ve decided that, after nearly 8 years of telling stories of navigating life, this season of Windrose is drawing to a close.

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Even Here: Words for When You're Wandering

When I was 22 years old, I visited the desert for the first time.

A metaphorical desert, if we’re getting technical.

I was fresh out of college, starry-eyed and eager to begin my post-grad life. I had big ‘ole me-centered dreams: a shiny, brag-worthy PR job in the music industry! An apartment with an exposed brick wall that (somehow) would fit an upright piano! A committed relationship with a kind, goofy man!

I got exactly none of those things.

To summarize an entire year’s worth of emotion: I was devastated.

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What is Home?

Late last night, I flew back into town after a week away, the city lights covering the Valley like a blanket of incandescent flowers. I’ve flown into Phoenix at least a dozen times at this point. Usually, I can identify a handful of landmarks, like my antenna-scarred South Mountain or the twinkling lights of the bridges spanning Tempe Town Lake.

Flying into Nashville, however, was always different.

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I Don't Live Here Anymore

I recently returned to Nashville for the first time since moving to Phoenix five months ago.

Before my reunion, I often said that the word “home” could apply to both Nashville and Phoenix. Nashville is my home. Phoenix is my home. I could find that home-sweet-home feeling in both cities.

During my 8 days back, I frequented my old haunts. The brickwalled coffee shop still serves the meanest mocha in town. The hillside winery still proves to be a worthwhile spot to sip away a sunny Sunday afternoon. The hip burger joint still offers a lovely evening to dine with friends, new and old. The lime-green Mexican restaurant on the corner of Whitebridge still feels like a queso-soaked refuge.

There were many “stills,” but there were changes, too.

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Why did you move?

A cardstock print sits propped against the lamp on my desk: a taupe watercolor swipe outlining a peakside Saguaro, the sun a tiny ring above. Beneath this minimalist illustration are these words in typeface: “I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”

I happened upon this notecard-sized print on the way out of a shop last weekend, after already having completed another purchase. It was the last print of its kind in the pile. I had to have it. I returned to the cashier: “This one, too.”

You see, this verse has been a thread weaving through my story, simple words spoken by a prophet long dead, a passage of comfort I’ve returned to again and again since my pilgrimage to the desert four years ago, when I inked a cactus on my wrist.

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The Good Old Days

Last week was National Margarita Day.

I did not, however, celebrate the holiday. Truthfully, I’ve yet to find THE Mexican place here in Phoenix. You know the one: gaudy decorations, cheap food, even cheaper margaritas.

But there’s a Mexican restaurant at the corner of Charlotte and Whitebridge in Nashville, TN.

You may have heard of it.

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Witching Hour (or, Fighting Off Demons at 3 am with a Box Cutter)

Between the hours of 3 - 4 am, I find myself awakened by nothing in particular. The room is silent. There is no sound outside. No loud car horns. No dogs barking.

I’m upset.

I wish it was something other than just me. Then I could stop it. Nothing is to blame. It feels like moments have passed since I closed my eyes. The moments of a long dreamless sleep last about 4 hours.

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10 Life Lessons This Cross-Country Move is Attempting to Teach Me

There are a few lessons life has attempted to teach me since my move — all things that I haven’t yet spiced up into a full essay, but deserve to be memorialized by my metaphorical pen nonetheless.

So I present a collection of lessons I’ve learned — and am still learning — in the last 3 months.

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What Will Your Life Look Like?

Tomorrow marks 3 months.

Three months here, sharing a zip code with Saguaros.

“So how is Phoenix?” a friend asked me over the phone as I sat on my balcony beneath glowing string lights, a pour of raspberry wine in my hand. The sun was setting, painting the eastern mountains with rosy swipes of redemption.

How has Phoenix been these last three months?

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What is it Trying to Tell You, if Only You’d Listen?

I went on a date recently. Two glasses of Riesling, pleasant conversation, and a perfectly amicable guy — it was an altogether fine evening.

However, I wasn’t interested in a second date.

Not because of any run-for-the-hills red flags. Not because I didn’t think he was cute. Not because we didn’t get along. I simply — wasn’t interested.

There’s no better way to explain it. No fear-based avoidance of the potential for a healthy relationship. No disdain for commitment that needs a heavy round of therapy to work through. Nothing deeper than the inner sense that a second date just wasn’t necessary.

But, I said yes to getting dinner again with him.

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The Other Side of Yes

I’m a No Girl.

In many ways, this is a good thing. I’m able to confidently decline invitations that disinterest me.

“Want to go whitewater rafting?” No thank you, I’m comfy right here on the bank.

“Want to do a shot?” No thank you, I’ll take my liquor with lime juice and Triple Sec, plz.

“Want to try this carrot cake?” No thank you, Harry, I can’t eat gluten.

“Want to go to Broadway?” No thank you, I’d prefer to go to bed.

In many ways, however, being a No Girl originates less from personal boundaries and more from fear. Fear and I happen to be pretty tight; we talk on the daily. Fear has been the primary consultant for many of my life decisions, in fact.

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A Song for Growth

A year ago, a friend of mine got a job at a well known tech company. He had been slogging through the interviews, and he finally got an offer. Obviously he deserved it. He was a hard worker, and his attitude for success and life was admirable to say the least. I knew he was beyond qualified.

But at the time, I was on a career path I couldn’t see myself being happy in. I had made the mistake of staying in the industry mainly for the money. Every month in the industry was a reminder of how much I did not want to stay. It created a nasty cycle of overthinking and career angst. Feelings of inadequacy and existentialism rooted themselves deep inside me. I couldn’t focus on anything and was utterly disconnected from the work I was doing.

I admit I wasn’t happy for him.

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TUESDAY TUNES: Songs for Chore Night

“Dream of Mickey Mantle” // Bleachers

“Stuck Like Glue” // Sugarland

“Junk” // Vivienne Chi

“Juice” // Ycee ft. Maleek Berry

“Lookin’ For” // Digital Farm Animals ft. Danny Ocean

Melissa graduated Boston College in 2016 with a double major in English and philosophy. She loves Ultimate Frisbee, Hamilton, Harry Potter, and ice cream, and thinks most problems can be solved with a nap, an iced coffee and the right Spotify playlist. She hopes to work in publishing.

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