My Horrible Family Dorm Experience

When I decided to go back to school I made sure I found a college with decent family/nontraditional housing, and when I found the school I'm in currently they took me on a tour. They showed me these apartment style family dorms that were really cute, clean, and fairly new. I was sold. So I enrolled in classes, signed my contract, and a few weeks later I received my key. This key wasn't what I was expecting at all... this key was an old bronze traditional metal key, whereas I was expecting the electronic key they showed us on our tour. My anxiety set in immediately.

Turns out, there was a waiting list for the nice dorms. Something that NO ONE told me. I was supposed to spend an entire semester in the pour-over dorms that were original to the campus back when it was a military facility. And they were disgusting. Cement walls with one tiny window by the ceiling and old tile floors that were peeling off in places. It was basically 2 barracks combined, so where there used to be two separate units with one bedroom and one small bathroom each, there was now 2 big spaces, one presumably for sleeping and the other for a living space, one original bathroom with a broken mirror and moldy shower, and a bathroom-turned-kitchen with the oddest set up I have ever seen. There was a smaller than average fridge, with a dead roach on top I might add, and a all-in-one stove, oven, sink, and cabinet that was an old metal thing from maybe the 40's to the right. And that was literally all that could fit. When you turned around in the "kitchen" there was shelves for storage, and a fire extinguisher. So cozy. 

The only good thing was that the place still came furnished, which was something I was hoping for. I didn't plan on lugging all my big furniture from my cute little house 40 miles away, to this tiny hell-hole I'd now call home. It came with 4 twin beds, 2 small dressers, 1 desk, 1 dining table, 3 chairs, and a make-shift closet shelf thing. When I showed up I had quite a few things to shove into the tiny space as well: a crib, a coffee table, 2 tv's, a computer, a printer, a microwave, and a large dresser. I wish I had pictures because that was the saddest attempt at living I have ever seen. I'm really glad my children were too young to remember it. 

The whole time we were there we dealt with mold, bugs, a super cold floor and my daughter hitting her head on the cement walls so hard it looked like a bump in Looney Tunes raising up super fast on her little noggin. When I finally got a key to move, I had to clean the dorm which was expected but they had a problem with my level of cleanliness (I cleaned it way passed the point it was given to me in). So, they gave me cleaning supplies and told me I had to scrub the kitchen and bathroom and mop. Which, I did... twice. At this point I was 8 months pregnant, pissed off, and cleaning a cement box with horrible ventilation. They A) wouldn't help me and B) were so rude about it to me I cried. 

I am SO happy to be out of that place.

For anyone wondering, these horrible dorms are the "Garden Apartments" here at OSUIT. BEWARE.

About Me.

"Hello, my name is Lindsay." Ha, how awkward.. So, as you might've guessed, I have 2 daughters and I'm on a journey to having 2 degrees as well. I'm a 24 year-old book lover, however my true passions are cocktails and online shopping. This blog is an outlet for me to express me thoughts and maybe help others who are on a similar journey, too.

My daughters are currently 5 and 2. Saying they are a handful is an understatement but I wouldn't change a thing. In this pic they were both sick and sleepy but they powered through a photo shoot with mom. Little troopers. The oldest is Isabelle Lane, or Izzy, and she is my outspoken princess. The smaller one is Charlotte Rose, or Charli most days & Chuck when she's being ornery, and she is my tiny tomboy/drama queen. Everyday I just try to be the best mother I can for them, which is hard when you don't have a maternal bone in your body, but I'm managing just fine. They are my best friends.