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Opinions: A study of one girl's apartment


I have this friend Katie B. We've known each other four years and have come to somewhat of an understanding.

That is, we understand we don't understand each other, and we think it's funny.

She likes "Dawson's Creek." I like fishing in the creek.

She listens to Chris Brown. I listen to Jackson Browne.

She drinks bottled water. I drink tap.

She's ritualistically hygienic. I take more of a "Summer Rules" approach all year long (any contact with an ocean, lake, pond, pool, hot tub, rainstorm, sprinkler, slip-n-slide, hose or water gun counts as a shower).

This irritates her, and I sometimes even clutch my T-shirt and say things like, "I wore this same doggone shirt yesterday, but it's OK because I switched from standard to inside-out when I started to smell me" just to laugh as she scrunches her face all up with an emphatic "gross."

Sometimes I really don't change my shirts, if you want to know the truth, but often I say these things just to see her reactions.

So yesterday I went over to Katie B's apartment with some people and couldn't help noting the sharp contrasts between her place and mine.

While she and I did laugh and ridicule each other about the quirks and differences at the time, I now find myself motivated to try to understand her living space. I think maybe I figure if I can understand why a girl arranges her apartment a certain way, I can gain some insight into what drives her.

I'm fascinated by women and how they live. To an extent, I'm like Darwin on the Galapagos Islands when I'm in Katie B's apartment. I just nose around, turn things over, note the local flora and fauna and try to make sense of observations and implications. Yesterday I observed Katie B in her natural habitat.

Outside her apartment is a welcome mat with hearts on it. Inside it is noticeably clean. The tile glistens, the carpet has been vacuumed and the dishes are done. The pantry is full. The couch is soft. The movies are organized. Board games are ready. It feels like Barbie crashed her pink Corvette into an IKEA truck, and the whole wreck twisted, pump-faked and landed "just so" inside Katie B's.

When I try to make sense of my observations, one concept seems to connect the seemingly irreconcilable pieces of this puzzle. That concept is hospitality. Katie B is ready to host at a moment's notice.

She doesn't need time to prepare. The food is in the kitchen and the dishes are ready. A guest who arrives and glances at the glass-top table will be invited by the fresh flowers and eased by the many placemats, which signify that it is perfectly normal for people to drop by for a meal because there are more placemats than roommates. A guitar is there just in case someone comes over who can play, or simply as a conversation starter.

New York and Paris are desirable destinations, and by decorating her apartment with images of these cities, Katie B has connected her living space with such signs — it is a destination.

Outside Katie B's apartment is a welcome mat.

I guess maybe she means it.

For an annotated list of the Summer Rules email Daniel at daniel.d.wallace@asu.edu.


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