I was 23 years old when Scott and I moved into our first apartment together. I was in my first year of law school at the time and not working, and Scott had a crap-paying job. So believe me when I tell you - this place was a dump.
It had a radiator that would take 3 days to turn on. And then once it was turned on, it would take another 3 days for it to turn off. And there was only one temperature - hot. It was a very confusing winter.
There was only one washer and dryer for the building, and you could only get to it by walking down the fire escape and entering the basement through the outside of the building. This basement was scary. Like dark, damp, single lightbulb swinging scary. Like cobwebs, creaky doors, blacked out windows scary. Like the lambs are screaming Clarice OMG scary. I wore a lot of dirty clothes my first year of law school.
It had a wall-unit air conditioner that you could not run at the same time as the microwave. FYI - microwaves are used often when you are in your first year of law school. If you happened to forget to turn the air conditoner off, you would blow a fuse. Which you had to change in the basement. See above.
If the person who lived in the apartment directly above you decided to take a shower at the same time as you, you would be alternately scalded and frozen with hot and cold water. So much cursing was done in that shower. Brings a whole new meaning to the word potty mouth.
And - worst of all - there was no dishwasher. I know.
Scott and I often reminisce about this first apartment. Like tonight, when the dishwasher was already full and I refused to hand wash the rest of the dishes due to P.A.S.D. (Post-Apartment Stress Disorder). It's a life-time disability, unfortunately.