scenes from a basement apartment

We the People...

Our somewhat limited storage space and tricky-shaped entrances have totally dictated what furniture we moved here with, and what was sold in a garage sale in Denver or left in storage in Michigan.

So, when the timing is right, we willingly participate in the friendly neighborhood commerce of the garage (or in our neighborhood, sidewalk) sale. Fortunately for us, the tradition is as equally Canadian as it is American, including low prices just asking to be bartered even lower. Which my husband did in order to snag this dresser for me. Because my clothes are piled in wire crates on the closet floor like a six-year-old.

That'll do.

What's funny is we can't escape how intertwined some of these cultural events are between our north american countries. Check out the drawer liners.

Bryan and my youngest stepbrother took one look and started singing Schoolhouse Rock's song for the Preamble to the Constitution. We are barely 80 km/50 mi from the U.S. border, but somehow it's mysterious and funny to me that this dresser found its way to our Canadian apartment.