Living in a house in the Boston area often makes it feel like the structure of the home changes your lifestyle.

In the case of a walk-in closet, after only using built-in wardrobes in Korea, when I quietly open the closet door while getting ready for work in the morning, I can turn on the light and have everything from coats, suits, hoodies, shoes, to luggage all sorted in one place.

No need to search for a coat in the hallway, socks in the room, or a belt in the drawer. In winter, I can just hang my coats, and during the rainy season, I can hang clothes on hangers instead of using a drying rack. While this is convenient, it also gradually becomes a storage space where I find myself saying, "I really need to organize this today..." about ten times.

The basement, unique to the East, feels slightly chilly on cold winter days when the upstairs is warm, but you can hear the boiler running and the washing machine when doing laundry. Usually, the washer and dryer are in the basement, so I have to carry the laundry basket down the creaky stairs on weekends. Sometimes, seeing a spider crawling up the wall reminds me of basements in Korea. However, sending down out-of-season clothes, blankets, luggage, and kimchi containers makes the upstairs feel much more spacious.

The corridor door initially makes me think, "Why is this hallway so long? This is all heating cost..." But when guests come over, even if we're chatting in the living room, closing the door to the inner room helps separate the noise, allowing everyone to work or study in their own rooms.

When I try to go to the bathroom at night, turning on the corridor light slightly and shuffling in my slippers, the creaking sound of the old wooden floors in Boston gives me the feeling of "Ah, I really live in an American house."

As for the pantry, at first, there was just an awkward door next to the kitchen, and I thought, "What do you put in here?" But after doing a big grocery run and worrying about garlic, onions, ramen boxes, rice, and Costco-sized snacks going bad, stuffing everything into the pantry feels like a whole new world. When I open the door, it feels like a mini-mart opens up, haha.

After work, when I think about preparing dinner, I check the pantry and grab some pasta sauce, canned corn, and a can of tuna, and the menu is instantly decided. So, at some point, I started checking the pantry before going to the grocery store instead of the fridge. "Is there enough ketchup, hot sauce, cereal, and snacks?" This becomes part of my daily routine.

The garage really shows its power in winter. On the morning after it snows, the car left outside is covered in ice on the windows, the doors barely open, and it struggles to start, but the car in the garage can just go out as usual. The reality, however, is that boxes, tools, bicycles, camping gear, and Christmas decorations gradually push the car out, leading to self-deprecating jokes like, "This garage was supposed to fit two cars, but now only one barely fits?"

The attic is not often visited, but it becomes very noticeable when moving in or around Christmas. Things like suitcases, Christmas trees, and ambiguous empty boxes that would have been stored in a balcony storage in Korea suddenly make the house feel much larger when placed in the attic. The downside is that when I go up with a folding ladder to find something, in summer, the hot air gives a sauna feeling, and in winter, the cold air takes my breath away.

Still, on a winter night, when I hear the sound of snow falling while sitting on the sofa in a warm living room, I feel that the entire house, from the pantry, basement, walk-in closet, garage, to the attic, is intricately connected in my mind.

It's fascinating that spaces that would have been saved in Korea for something else each have their own names and roles here, and I feel my lifestyle gradually adapting to them, thinking, "Ah, I'm getting used to American life now."