I love living in my Studio apartment. I’ve had bigger places, but there’s something essentially cozy about living in one large room. I mean, y’know, I’d totally kill someone for a big open loft space, but I’d probably be better served to wait until I’m making more money. In the meantime, though, I appreciate a well thought out apartment, so when I stumbled by complete chance over an article, This Old Studio Apartment, I nearly creamed myself looking at the pictures, and reading what he’d done to a Greenwich Village studio over the course of two decades.

Things I particularly love — a.) His made-from-practically scratch coffee table. Talk about multi-use! b.) The way he re-purposed his closet to serve as an office. c.) his loft bed, custom made.

The simple fact of the matter — and I don’t intend to brag — is that I also know how to make small spaces livable (or, at least, I like to delude myself that I do*). My apartment philosophy, especially for a one-room place like a Studio apartment, is that one should embrace having one big, gigantic area, while still defining separate and distinct sub-areas. My own apartment is a bit of a cheat, floor plan wise, as it technically has, before you even start fucking with the floor plan, five distinct areas: my foyer, my bathroom, my kitchen, my gigantic 64-sq foot closet, and my living space.

(I mean … I think it’s livable).

My living space is about fifteen feet by eleven feet. It’s not anywhere near gigantic, or as large as Mr. Simmons’ apartment (which I might consider killing him for)**. Into this space, I’ve managed to fit a futon, a couch, a workbench that serves as a combination desk/coffee table, and no fewer than eleven bookcases, some stacked atop one another, others mounted high on the wall. Additional furnishing include a bar table and an assortment of stools — some for sitting, one for reaching the highest shelves of my bookcases. One word that might come to mind is “crowded” (especially when you consider I’ve determined where I could quite easily add two of these units to the space).

Honestly, I kind of think I could probably do well as an interior designer, helping people move into smaller spaces while not downsizing quite as much. Truthfully, when I moved out of my two-bedroom apartment in Timonium, all I ditched was a desk, some folding tables, and a wonderful dining room table which is carefully stored in my parents’ basement until I have room for it.

So you know what? Let’s consider this open: Malnurtured Snay’s Apartment Cramming, dedicated to squeezing in as much furniture as humanly possible for all of your world possessions when relocating to Washington, DC, while still leaving your apartment feeling somewhat spacious and awesome refuge from a blizzard. If I can’t get 75% of your stuff in, I’ll refund all of your money. This sounds like a great deal, until you realize my fee is most likely to be charged in food and beer. But, hey, if you got a toilet, I’m sure I can regurgitate***.

*At the bare minimum, it must be said that I know how to cram a whole ton of stuff into a tiny space.

**JOKE.

***This also a joke. Sorry folks, no refunds.