Alright, look. Let’s talk first apartments. Forget the perfect blog posts you see online. I’m not going to give you a list of “10 Must-Have Items!” that includes a cheese board and throw pillows. I’m going to tell you what you actually need to not lose your mind.

I remember my first place. A studio in a building that had… character. Which is a nice way of saying the elevator smelled weird and the windows rattled. I had a mattress on the floor, a TV on a cardboard box, and a profound sense of being in over my head.

I made every mistake. I bought an expensive standing mixer before I owned a decent can opener. I had a decorative vase but no trash can. I was an idiot. So learn from my idiocy.

Here’s the real, no-filter list.

The “First 24 Hours” Kit: Don’t Be Me

Before you even think about moving your bed, pack one box or suitcase with this stuff. Bring it in your car. If you forget everything else, remember this.

• Toilet Paper. I’m dead serious. Put it in your passenger seat. The number one cause of first-day panic is this. You do not want to have to use a paper towel. Just trust me.
• A Power Strip and Your Chargers. Outlets are never where you need them. This is your lifeline to the world while everything is in chaos.
• Scissors or a Box Cutter. You will be surrounded by boxes. You will feel like a prisoner in a fortress of cardboard without these.
• A Bottle of Water and Some Snacks. You will get thirsty. You will get hungry. You will not want to stop to order food. A bag of pretzels can be the difference between a manageable day and a total meltdown.
• A Lightbulb. Why? Because sometimes the previous tenant took the one from the overhead fixture. And sitting in the dark on your first night is a special kind of pathetic.

The Actual “I Live Here Now” Essentials

Forget the décor magazines. This is about function.

In the Kitchen:

• You need to be able to feed yourself without ordering pizza every night (though that is encouraged sometimes).
• One Good Knife. Don’t buy a block. Buy one decent, sharp 8-inch chef’s knife. You can literally cut everything with it.
• One Cutting Board. So you don’t ruin your countertops (or your one good knife).
• One Big Pot and One Frying Pan. That’s it. You can make pasta, soup, grilled cheese, eggs, stir-fry… you’re covered.
• A Spatula, a Wooden Spoon, and a Whisk. That’s your utensil arsenal.
• Two of Everything: Plates, bowls, mugs, forks, knives, spoons. This forces you to wash dishes. If you have ten, you’ll have a sink full of ten dirty dishes.

In the Living Area:

• A Place to Sit That Isn’t Your Bed. This is for your mental health. Your bed is for sleeping. Your couch (or armchair, or big freaking floor pillow) is for living. This separation is crucial.
• Something to Use as a Table. A coffee table, an old trunk, a couple of cinderblocks, and a piece of wood—I don’t care. You need a place to put your drink down.

The “Why Didn’t Anyone Tell Me This?” Stuff

This is the boring adulting stuff that will save you.

• A PLUNGER: Buy it. Today. Put it in a closet and forget about it until the night you desperately need it. You will thank me.
• A Basic Toolkit: A hammer, a screwdriver with multiple heads, a tape measure, and a pack of picture hangers. You will use this monthly.
• A Bucket: For cleaning, for leaks, for carrying stuff. It’s weirdly versatile.
• A First-Aid Kit: Band-aids, antiseptics, pain relievers. For when you whack your thumb with the hammer.

Final Thoughts

You will accumulate stuff. You’ll get gifts you don’t love but feel guilty getting rid of. You’ll have winter coats in summer and camping gear you use twice a year.

Your first apartment is small. It doesn’t have an attic or a basement. This is the secret no one tells you: it’s okay to not keep everything in your tiny closet.

This is where a storage unit saved my sanity. It’s not just for old junk; it’s for your life-in-progress. It’s where I kept my grandfather’s old desk that I couldn’t part with but had no room for. It’s where my ski gear lives in July so my apartment doesn’t smell like a locker room. It’s my off-site closet, and it lets my actual home feel like a home, not a storage locker I sleep in.

Don’t try to make your place perfect on day one. It won’t be. Start with the stuff that lets you live. The rest—the art, the rug, the perfect bookshelf—will come. And it’ll mean more because you found it over time, not because you panic-bought it at a home goods store on opening night.

You’ve got this. It’s messy and weird and totally yours. Enjoy it.