I am currently renting and recently asked to be moved into a larger apartment in my building. The apartment is beautiful except for the kitchen. The kitchen looks out of the 70′s. It has a harvest gold stove and refrigerator. Along with dark brown cabinets. How do i decorate my kitchen to make it look decent with these horrible colors?

I’m really asking what should i do. I’m so upset, so I’ll describe the circumstances and hopefully somebody can help. My roommate’s (who has her own room) puppy has parvo. My dog is about a year and a half and had his last parvo vaccine 4 months ago. she keeps her puppy in her room most of the time, only taking him out to the bathroom twice a day. then, he walks through the apartment. She has only sanitized his crate and some of his toys. I don’t think she is taking this seriously enough. she isn’t cleaning up his stool and she hasn’t bleached anything in the apartment. I cleaned the bathroom and kitchen with bleach solution- the rest of the apartment is carpeted. I stayed in a hotel for 2 nights, after coming home from spring break, because she hadn’t cleaned. I hate how she treats me and her dogs, but I know it is up to me to make sure this is a safe place to live for me, my dog, and the other dogs in the apartment complex. Is my dog in danger of contamination? how can i sanitize the carpets?

I am going to be re-decorating my kitchen, but not sure what I want to do. I thought about doing a shabby chic look, but I have ran into a problem. My floors are sort of tuscany-ish looking. I live in an apartment, so I can’t really re-do the floors, not that I would want to spend the money on them anyway. My counters/cabinets and appliances are white. Any suggestions?

Dead next to three photos.

Part 1.
Mrs. Fatima sat at her chair that stood against the yellow painted wall of the living room. The fan whirred above her, squeaking as it turned from side to side. The door of the room facing her remained closed for two months. To her right side, the kitchen smelt of rot bananas with a cup of coffee lying at the bottom of the sink since her son’s last visit, two weeks ago.

The grey light from the round lamp at the ceiling, gave a mysterious aura to Mrs. Fatima’s brown, wrinkled skin. She clicked the golden ring at the forefinger against her knee, and then raised her head to the ceiling. In her white night dress she looked a like a pride waiting for her lover to return, but a dying pride would be of no use.

She dreaded mirrors. She escaped them, afraid to see how time had misshaped her, leaving nothing of her once charming features. Beauty abandoned her. Her cheekbones stuck out under her green eyes and her nose got longer with the skin flattening at around it. Her teeth went yellow and weaker; her jaw dropped to her neck and stiffened at the edges that she could barely move it up and down to eat.

The reality of change had destroyed her life. Her husband died and her three daughters and son got married and left her to the silence of her apartment. Her body stiffened all over and her back arched forward; the front of her feet swelled. She’d feel like walking on hard wood that broke apart and stuck out, piercing through her skin.

The crying went on for four years, since the death of her husband. But by the beginning of the fifth year, she realized that there was no use. Her tears dried up and she knew that no one would ever care to watch them as they twinkled in the light of the room, falling to the ground. The tears were gone.

No one would hug her when she felt cold; no one would sleep beside her and show her how it felt to be a woman. She wondered, what was the use of pain if no one could see it?

She raised her head to the ceiling and her jaw shook as she tried to talk. “God, can you hear me?” She pressed the wooden handle of the chair. “ I cannot be alone any longer. I wish to die.”

She imagined that by tomorrow morning, Mrs. Dalia her neighbor would keep on knocking but she wouldn’t open for she‘d be dead. The neighbors would break the door and Mrs. Dalia would scream and run to her bed and hug her. She’d talk of how she visited her everyday and how she took care of her, of how she told her of her secrets and how she loved her like a mother.

Some minutes later, someone knocked at the door. Mrs. Fatima pressed her hand against the wooden handle of the chair and got to her feet. Bowing forward, she walked to the door. Her whole body shook and stiffened as she tried to steady herself. “Who’s there?” A raspy voice replied back, “Hussein, Mom.” She pushed back the lock with one finger and the door flung open. The door had newly painted white bars behind which thick, non-transparent glass stood. She could see the shadow of the one knocking, like a ghost, arriving to summon her soul.

The bathroom was so small that you couldn’t have a shower unless you were standing. The shower handle hung right above the toilet with the soap bar resting under it at the tiled floor. After having a quick shower, Hussein peed, wore back his shirt and trousers then went to his mother’s room.

Mrs. Fatima Sat at her bed, her feet crossed in the darkness and her thumbs rolling around each other in illusionary circles. Hussein sat next to her and pressed her hand gently against the bed sheet. “How are you, Mom?” She closed her eyes then tugged her hand and pressed it against her chest.

“Mom, I know how it feels to be alone. I’m doing my best. I have a job to do, kids to feed. I can’t be around here beside you all day long. Please, forgive me.” Mrs. Fatima turned her face to the wall as Hussein lowered his face to ground. “I know you feel so bad about me. You’re wondering why is life so cruel to you. I don’t have an answer. I’m sorry.” He patted her on the shoulder and went to the bed next to her.

“It’d be better if you talked to me.” He said examining the ceiling. “What the heck? Good night.” He placed the pillow over his head and after some minutes, he was snoring.

Mrs. Fatima closed her eyes and remained ever conscious to the soft hum of air outside her window.

Dead next to three photos.

Part 1.
Mrs. Fatima sat at her chair that stood against the yellow painted wall of the living room. The fan whirred above her, squeaking as it turned from side to side. The door of the room facing her remained closed for two months. To her right side, the kitchen smelt of rot bananas with a cup of coffee lying at the bottom of the sink since her son’s last visit, two weeks ago.

The grey light from the round lamp at the ceiling, gave a mysterious aura to Mrs. Fatima’s brown, wrinkled skin. She clicked the golden ring at the forefinger against her knee, and then raised her head to the ceiling. In her white night dress she looked a like a pride waiting for her lover to return, but a dying pride would be of no use.

She dreaded mirrors. She escaped them, afraid to see how time had misshaped her, leaving nothing of her once charming features. Beauty abandoned her. Her cheekbones stuck out under her green eyes and her nose got longer with the skin flattening at around it. Her teeth went yellow and weaker; her jaw dropped to her neck and stiffened at the edges that she could barely move it up and down to eat.

The reality of change had destroyed her life. Her husband died and her three daughters and son got married and left her to the silence of her apartment. Her body stiffened all over and her back arched forward; the front of her feet swelled. She’d feel like walking on hard wood that broke apart and stuck out, piercing through her skin.

The crying went on for four years, since the death of her husband. But by the beginning of the fifth year, she realized that there was no use. Her tears dried up and she knew that no one would ever care to watch them as they twinkled in the light of the room, falling to the ground. The tears were gone.

No one would hug her when she felt cold; no one would sleep beside her and show her how it felt to be a woman. She wondered, what was the use of pain if no one could see it?

She raised her head to the ceiling and her jaw shook as she tried to talk. “God, can you hear me?” She pressed the wooden handle of the chair. “ I cannot be alone any longer. I wish to die.”

She imagined that by tomorrow morning, Mrs. Dalia her neighbor would keep on knocking but she wouldn’t open for she‘d be dead. The neighbors would break the door and Mrs. Dalia would scream and run to her bed and hug her. She’d talk of how she visited her everyday and how she took care of her, of how she told her of her secrets and how she loved her like a mother.

Some minutes later, someone knocked at the door. Mrs. Fatima pressed her hand against the wooden handle of the chair and got to her feet. Bowing forward, she walked to the door. Her whole body shook and stiffened as she tried to steady herself. “Who’s there?” A raspy voice replied back, “Hussein, Mom.” She pushed back the lock with one finger and the door flung open. The door had newly painted white bars behind which thick, non-transparent glass stood. She could see the shadow of the one knocking, like a ghost, arriving to summon her soul.

The bathroom was so small that you couldn’t have a shower unless you were standing. The shower handle hung right above the toilet with the soap bar resting under it at the tiled floor. After having a quick shower, Hussein peed, wore back his shirt and trousers then went to his mother’s room.

Mrs. Fatima Sat at her bed, her feet crossed in the darkness and her thumbs rolling around each other in illusionary circles. Hussein sat next to her and pressed her hand gently against the bed sheet. “How are you, Mom?” She closed her eyes then tugged her hand and pressed it against her chest.

“Mom, I know how it feels to be alone. I’m doing my best. I have a job to do, kids to feed. I can’t be around here beside you all day long. Please, forgive me.” Mrs. Fatima turned her face to the wall as Hussein lowered his face to ground. “I know you feel so bad about me. You’re wondering why is life so cruel to you. I don’t have an answer. I’m sorry.” He patted her on the shoulder and went to the bed next to her.

“It’d be better if you talked to me.” He said examining the ceiling. “What the heck? Good night.” He placed the pillow over his head and after some minutes, he was snoring.

Mrs. Fatima closed her eyes and remained ever conscious to the soft hum of air outside her window.

Part 2
She realized it was morning, not from the light seeping from the window next to her bed, but from the smell of fried beans that twirled up her window every morning for the last forty-five years. The smell wafted up from the small restaurant, belonging to a short man called El. Hag Ahmed. Mrs. Fatima woke to the sound of Hag Ahmed’s shrill voice every morning. He shouted, laughed and spitted. She never got fed up. It reminded her of her younger days when she used to sprint down the stairs and buy her parents and sister some beans from his shop.

Part 1.
Mrs. Fatima sat at her chair that stood against the yellow painted wall of the living room. The fan whirred above her, squeaking as it turned from side to side. The door of the room facing her remained closed for two months. To her right side, the kitchen smelt of rot bananas with a cup of coffee lying at the bottom of the sink since her son’s last visit, two weeks ago.

The grey light from the round lamp at the ceiling, gave a mysterious aura to Mrs. Fatima’s brown, wrinkled skin. She clicked the golden ring at the forefinger against her knee, and then raised her head to the ceiling. In her white night dress she looked a like a pride waiting for her lover to return, but a dying pride would be of no use.

She dreaded mirrors. She escaped them, afraid to see how time had misshaped her, leaving nothing of her once charming features. Beauty abandoned her. Her cheekbones stuck out under her green eyes and her nose got longer with the skin flattening at around it. Her teeth went yellow and weaker; her jaw dropped to her neck and stiffened at the edges that she could barely move it up and down to eat.

The reality of change had destroyed her life. Her husband died and her three daughters and son got married and left her to the silence of her apartment. Her body stiffened all over and her back arched forward; the front of her feet swelled. She’d feel like walking on hard wood that broke apart and stuck out, piercing through her skin.

The crying went on for four years, since the death of her husband. But by the beginning of the fifth year, she realized that there was no use. Her tears dried up and she knew that no one would ever care to watch them as they twinkled in the light of the room, falling to the ground. The tears were gone.

No one would hug her when she felt cold; no one would sleep beside her and show her how it felt to be a woman. She wondered, what was the use of pain if no one could see it?

She raised her head to the ceiling and her jaw shook as she tried to talk. “God, can you hear me?” She pressed the wooden handle of the chair. “ I cannot be alone any longer. I wish to die.”

She imagined that by tomorrow morning, Mrs. Dalia her neighbor would keep on knocking but she wouldn’t open for she‘d be dead. The neighbors would break the door and Mrs. Dalia would scream and run to her bed and hug her. She’d talk of how she visited her everyday and how she took care of her, of how she told her of her secrets and how she loved her like a mother.

Some minutes later, someone knocked at the door. Mrs. Fatima pressed her hand against the wooden handle of the chair and got to her feet. Bowing forward, she walked to the door. Her whole body shook and stiffened as she tried to steady herself. “Who’s there?” A raspy voice replied back, “Hussein, Mom.” She pushed back the lock with one finger and the door flung open. The door had newly painted white bars behind which thick, non-transparent glass stood. She could see the shadow of the one knocking, like a ghost, arriving to summon her soul.

The bathroom was so small that you couldn’t have a shower unless you were standing. The shower handle hung right above the toilet with the soap bar resting under it at the tiled floor. After having a quick shower, Hussein peed, wore back his shirt and trousers then went to his mother’s room.

Mrs. Fatima Sat at her bed, her feet crossed in the darkness and her thumbs rolling around each other in illusionary circles. Hussein sat next to her and pressed her hand gently against the bed sheet. “How are you, Mom?” She closed her eyes then tugged her hand and pressed it against her chest.

“Mom, I know how it feels to be alone. I’m doing my best. I have a job to do, kids to feed. I can’t be around here beside you all day long. Please, forgive me.” Mrs. Fatima turned her face to the wall as Hussein lowered his face to ground. “I know you feel so bad about me. You’re wondering why is life so cruel to you. I don’t have an answer. I’m sorry.” He patted her on the shoulder and went to the bed next to her.

“It’d be better if you talked to me.” He said examining the ceiling. “What the heck? Good night.” He placed the pillow over his head and after some minutes, he was snoring.

Mrs. Fatima closed her eyes and remained ever conscious to the soft hum of air outside her window.

My apartment has no living room,and a big enough kitchen.How could I make the kitchen into a living room also?
I need Ideas so it doesn’t looke completely stupid.

Ok, I need some opinions!

My friend’s guy friend is really really cute. A week ago we played poker at his apartment. He sat next to me and kept glancing at me. I’m very shy and just didn’t want to look at him. When I lost he still included me by showing me his cards. When it was time to leave, I was standing by the door waiting for my girlfriend, and he kept glancing at me over his shoulder. He made sure to say bye before I left.

The next day I went out to eat with a bunch of people. He kept glancing at me again. My friend brought her nephew. He was playing with the nephew, smiling at me whenever I watched and laughed. After dinner, he seemed to take his time leaving, fixing the chairs at the table. Then was the last to leave, walking behind me. Outside, he kept taking glances at me again, but I just pretended to not notice.

A couple of days later, we went to a bar. I felt he was watching me the whole time. When it was time for me to go, I waved bye to him, and he reached out to give me a hug. I felt he was still watching me leave.

Does he like me or something? What should i do?

Okay, let me give you a little detail on what my room looks like now, the size of it, what’s already in it, etc:
The size of my room is exactly 10 feet by 11 feet 2 inches (I’m in an apartment).
The things already in my room are a brown oakwood dresser, a matching nightstand, a double slider window with that little bar at the top, a silver TV stand, a protruding heater, a built-in double door closet, a queen sized bed with no slacks or nothing, it’s just sitting on the floor. Oh, and there’s this little wall when you come in my room about the length of one of my arms (I’m 5’8).
The walls of my room are all white with the exception of a few little marks and/or stains that unfortunately my younger brother put up when he was in here. Same thing goes for the cream-colored floor (I’m really looking for something that cover the stains.)

Now let me tell you what I’m looking to achieve after the makeover:

I want my room to look like something out of a better homes and garden magazine or something remotely close to it. Like I want the walls to be a bright white, the floor to be covered by a nice colored or patterned rug. I want some really bright curtains with some matching patterned bedding. I want like some really nice furniture coverings for my dresser and nightstand and stuff. Um, I want to be able to cover my walls in like some really pretty posters of people or patterns and if I can, I want to be able to hang like some little shapes or something from my ceiling. I’m also looking for a cute lamp to go in here too. Oh yeah, I have a lot of stuff in my room everywhere (tons of shoes, clothes, makeup, etc.), so any cute stylish storage suggestions would be nice too. And anything else that could really set my room off as lovely and beautiful would be grand.

Oh yeah, if you haven’t noticed, I’m a little bit of a pattern and color freak

If it helps, my favorite colors are royal purple and cerulean blue.

Thanks In Advance For Your Help!

Most Descriptive Answer Gets Best Answer.

P.S. I don’t have a lot of money like that so if the suggestions could be low-price, that’d be even better.

I keep having the same dream every night… well, I say same dream. It’s not the exact same every time, but it always lead to the same thing everytime, no matter how different the beginning of the dream maybe.

In my dream, I am always trying to get somewhere for one reason or another, (need to hide, moving to a new home, running from danger, visiting a friend, etc.). This part of the dream is usually different. It doesn’t matter where I am in the world, the way to get to this place is always inside of another building. I have to find the secret door (which is always different depending on where I am in my dream and always hidden in a different spot). Once I find this the secret door, it always opens up to the exact same stair case. It’s very long, very narrow with no rails, dark ( The only light is coming from a window that is always night outside) and it’s dusty with lots of spider webs. But even though it sounds dangerous, I never have any trouble getting to the door at the top. I just run or walk right up to it. I have no trouble getting through the door either. On the other side of the door is sort of like a very upscale apartment. The architecture is like nothing I’ve ever seen before and it is amazing. I’m not sure if describing the layout will help but I will anyway just in case some are curious.

Layout:

When you walk through the door, the room is very brightly lit and all the walls are painted an eggshell color. To your left is a 12 -15 foot wall that has a clear glass railing around the top and to your right is a glass wall that goes all the way up to the ceiling. It always shows the scenery of a city with skyscrapers and it’s always clear skies and bright and sunny. Just ahead of you are 2 columns and between those 2 columns, on the wall to the left is a stair way that leads up to a second floor. from here you can lean over the glass railing and look down at the door through which you just came through. In the middle of the room is a normal looking coffee table with a sofa and 2 recliners facing the giant glass wall and staircase, looking at the view. to the left is a sold door leading to a kitchen and the right of that door is a cutout (one almost like what you would see in a restaurant where the cook can look out) and there are bar stools next to it, so you can eat and look into the kitchen. On the right side of the room is are 2 doors. One leads into a bed room and the other into a bathroom. But the best thing about this apartment is what the columns (when you first came in) are holding up. On either side of the staircase that led up the second floor, is what resembles a magnificent staircase (One like you would see in an old antebellum home, that goes up and meets in the middle. But this is not a staircase. It’s flat like a ramp that goes up maybe 20 -30 feet above the second floor. It too has the glass railings around it.

It’s always the same, no matter the reason I’m trying to get there. Can anybody help me figure out what this means?

Ok, I need some opinions!

I really like my friend’s cute friend. A while ago, my friend asked him if he liked me, or saw potential in dating me. He said it didn’t matter if he liked me or not, he liked his own thing, his own routine. Didn’t want a relationship, and didn’t want to lead anyone on. So I thought that was the end of it.

But now the way he’s acting has got me wondering. A week ago we played poker at his apartment. He sat next to me and kept glancing at me. I’m very shy and just didn’t want to look at him. When I lost he still included me by showing me his cards. When it was time to leave, I was standing by the door waiting for my girlfriend, and he kept glancing at me over his shoulder. He made sure to say bye before I left.

The next day I went out to eat with a bunch of people. He kept glancing at me again. My friend brought her nephew. He was playing with the nephew, smiling at me whenever I watched and laughed. After dinner, he seemed to take his time leaving, fixing the chairs at the table. He was the last to leave, walking behind me. Outside, he kept taking glances at me again, but I just pretended to not notice.

A couple of days later, we went to a bar. I was a bit more talkative with him. I felt he was watching me at times. He definitely noticed my reaction when one of my friends let him have a sip of her drink. I was a little jealous! When it was time for me to go, I waved bye to him, and he reached out to give me a hug.

Does he still like me or something, despite what he said to my friend before? What should I make of this? What should I do?

A friend of mine and her family were recently approved for an apartment in a co-op in Yonkers, NY. Her family consist of herself, her older sister and their mother. Her older sister is the one whose name will be on the lease. The board though, had three requests that I find unusual. I want to know if such requests are illegal or at the very least, questionable:

1) The building’s board requests that the lease-holder have furniture insurance (I’m not sure if they said that’s mandatory or not. I thought that would be voluntary on the part of the tenant).

2) The board said that there would be a additional .00 monthly charge for a smoke alarm/carbon monoxide detector. I think this is illegal because – if not already installed – I thought the tenant just had to purchase the detector and install it, NOT pay a monthly charge on it like it’s being rented.

3) When the co-op board contacted my friend’s older sister that she was approved yesterday, they told her that her sister (my friend) and their mother would have to submit to a background check prior to moving in. This I’ve never heard of before. If they decline the check, can they be barred from moving in? (which I’m sure is illegal).

I realize that co-op boards do have a lot of discretion (I grew up and live in a NYC co-op myself so I know), but this particular co-op is in Yonkers, just north of NYC and are their co-op laws I’m sure are different (tried in vain to find them online); but I still think that what they are asking just flat out illegal or at the least inappropriate.

Ok I recently bought this apartment in Rockford, Illinois for only ,500 somewhere around there. I was really happy and surprised I got it for so cheap. Anyway the first week or so was alright. Everything was new and I liked it. A few strange phenomenon like a closet banging (I didn’t hear it I just heard banging on a wooden object) and sudden feelings that someone or more than someone is watching me. So at around day 9 I was in my kitchen and was about to wash my hands and I turned on the faucet for cold water and nothing came out. No water, nothing. And my hands were below it and suddenly boiling hot water comes rushing out the "cold" faucet instead of the warm one. I had some serious 2nd degree burns and I rushed to the hospital to fix them. Even now I’m wearing a hand bandage. I was surprised and I just blamed it on some "broken tube" or anything. Then for 2 weeks nothing happened only the banging. And then at day 29 or so I was washing my face (I wash my face twice a day) and when I looked up I saw a 4-5 year old girl on a stool standing on it and staring at me in the eye (I saw this through the mirror by the way). My heart stopped in fear and I noticed that it vanished. Now it’s been 2 days since it happened and I’m scared to death in this house. If the last owner sold this apartment for ,000 cheaper then something terribly went wrong in this home. I need help to elliminate this demon child from my home. And yesterday I awoke to giggling in the middle of the night at 2:23 A.M.

Please any help would be greatly appreciated. I’m trying not to be scared because I think the more I become scared the more powerful this connection with this ghost is. Is it a ghost, a demon, or a spirit?

Honest answers only please but if you MUST joke around saying that I should call the ghostbusters then please don’t waste your time

Thanks,

Alex
And to the girl who answered Im not goin gto Ouija board. i did that as a kid and a demon will usually try to impersonate the person im trying to find. and I cant move out I cant even sell this house. And if i sell it the otherr personw ill have problems =[
And yes I am a christian but I think Ill start hanging crucifixes in the house for more protection.

I’m moving into an apartment, where the kitchen is a dark green. Many of my kitchen things (mixer, stools, etc.) are a bright red. What colors could help tie them together? Thanks!

So I am getting married in March (OMG!) I’m really excited. Anyway, my fiance and I are paying for everything and we’re on a tight budget, so we found this really nice garden park where we can have the wedding ceremony, they also cater and hold receptions, the only thing is that their reception room is WAY more than we care to spend on it. So our apartment complex has a really nice club house, it has a full kitchen, a bar area, a HUGE fireplace, chairs and couches, a big screen tv, the works. We were thinking of having our reception there. We are only have 30 people including us to both the ceremony and the reception. Our wedding will also be at 9am with a continental b-fast at the reception. So at the club house we would decorate to fit my black and white/bride and groom theme, and have the wedding favors placed here and there for people to take. How does that sound, do you think it sounds too cheap?