Welcome to the Dave Cave

My new apartment is too small for a housewarming party, so I have decided to host it on-line today. I don't have any pictures of it, so I will describe it to you:

I live in a studio. A basement studio. I live in the rear east corner of a two story building on St. Clair, in the basement level. My windows, if you were to walk by them, would show me your legs, cutting my view of you off at the waist. My few visiting friends now walk by my east window, bend down, and say hey, Dave, are you home? I have three windows, total. I have two closests, on your right and left as you enter. They are big closets; both closests you can enter, shut the door behind you, and maybe collapse. The biggest closest I have turned into my library. It is big enough for one end table, one thin bookshelf, and a gray recliner chair that when extended touches the both of the rooms farthest walls. This is my sanctuary. I go in this room and pretend it is a full-sized second room, that I keep my bed in the main room out of eccentricity. When you pass the two closets, heading east, there is a small bathroom to your right with a huge, vast mirror taking up all of the wall until the sink. The tub is small, and I must stick my legs up in the air to take a bath. I have a pale blue shower curtain, cloth-like and new, a housewarming gift. Beyond the bathroom you have entered the Room. On your immediate left is my twin bed, my desk, and then a long green couch that has been in my family for many years. The couch and matching green chair form a living room, facing as they do my 19 inch TV with old-school antennae. On your right is some cupboards, a sink, a half-sized stove, an island from Target to chop things on, and a huge, new-ish refreidgerator.

I can run through my entire apartment in 4.9 seconds. I just timed myself.

Welcome to the Dave Cave. I hope you enjoy yourself while visiting.