An apartment is a self contained housing unit that occupies only part of a building. Apartments may be owned (by an owner/occupier) or rented (by tenants). My first apartment was located in Brooklyn in the Flatbush section. It was a small but very conveniently located third floor apartment in a elevator building. The building only had five floors with a see through glass lobby entrance. The building had a doorman that worked from four until midnight. He was a very pleasant middle aged gentleman with
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My home is a special place to me. It is not only my happy place‚ but it is also a place where I can also feel other emotions. This house is special to me because it is the first home that my mother and stepfather bought together. Before my stepfather came into my life it was just my mom and I. My mother and I had never lived in a house before. We always lived in either an apartment or a trailer. Moving into a house was something new and exciting for us. I remember standing in the driveway‚ taking
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white wooden door to my one-story house that contains four bedrooms‚ we have our new brown suede couches. In the front corner there’s a 50” plasma TV rested on a glass TV stand with different types of systems laying on the shelves including a stereo‚ DVD player‚ and a cable box. By our brick fireplace there is a really tall 80’s speaker along with another one laying on top of the wall. When you first walk through my door and look straight you there’s the kitchen‚ most kitchens on my block are rather
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My Room is a Reflection of my Personality My room has two faces. Sometimes it is clean. Sometimes it is really messy. If there is something that could really reflect who I am‚ definitely‚ it would be my room. It is my mirror. Among the family members‚ I’m the only one who stays alone in a room definitely because I’m an unica hija. You can immediately see it for its only one curtain away from our living room and one more thing‚ our house is not that big but it’s cute. Anyway‚ my room is just
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My Great-Grandparent’s Farm My Great-Grandparent’s farm is tucked away in the rural village of Mt. Calvary‚ Wisconsin. Mt. Calvary is a small densely populated village consisting of primarily dairy farmers of German Catholic decent‚ that lies in the vast rolling green hills of South-East Wisconsin. My Great-Grandparent’s farm has always been a very special place. It is also a place to go to find peace and serenity when life is overwhelming and hectic. My Great-Grandfather hand built the
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Savannah Neely October 3‚ 2013 The Haunted House As I stood‚ staring bleakly at the dilapidated house. Chills ran down my spine. I forgot my jacket‚ I thought to myself. The twojackets‚ three pairs of pants‚ 4 pairs of fuzzy socks‚ and boots could not keep me warm against the deathly cold. The walkway up to house were cracked. Weeds emerged out from these cracks. Briars were growing wildly in thick batches by the gate. The moonlight cast a
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Descriptive paper Mercedez 1 How It Feels To Be in a Live Poker Tournament About five years ago I used to date this guy‚ whose mother loved to go to the casino. When I first heard about her going‚ I just couldn’t understand why she would get so excited about going there. She would come home and say how she had the best time and how she got so lucky. She claimed that her son would give her luck and other small things that she would do‚ to claim she received luck that night. I would just look
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My Grandmother’s House My grandmother’s house has a very special place in my heart. I lived with my grandmother for many years when I was little. Her house always seemed to have something about it that set it apart from all the rest. When walking in the front door of her house‚ there is a stairway as long as the Red River. It leads to the main hallway of the house. The strong smell of cigarette smoke would tickle my nose by the time I made it to the hallway. My grandmother’s house was always
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you are as a person. For me‚ one of the most vivid events in my childhood was when I moved from my mom’s house in Nevada to my dad’s house in California when I was seven. My mom made the decision to have me move in with my dad. It was a blazing hot Saturday‚ the kind that you can only find in the suburbs of Las Vegas. I was laying down on the couch‚ watching tv and I could hear my mom talking on the phone in the kitchen. “I’m down to my last $100 and we don’t have any food….She’s your daughter too
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feels like fine needles pricking at my eyeballs. I blink them a couple more times before hitting the snooze button on my loud horn shrieking alarm clock. As I lay my head back down to get just ten more minutes‚ a fuzzy feeling tickles my stomach. The excitement of me going home today to see my family races through my head‚ along with that‚ the slight twinge of a headache from the lack of sleep counteracts that feeling. I’m tired from packing at the last minute. My bed feels so warm and welcoming. It
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