Every time I stay in a new place, it's the same situation. I have to fiddle with shower handles to discern the right balance between hot and cold, something I've long established in my own place. Several screams later, I begin to make the proper adjustments. Finally, after perhaps a week, sometimes even longer, I determine precisely how to reach that correct balance of hot and cold water to produce the ideal shower.
The process is the same with everything. My stove, for example, has new mysteries of oven temperature to deal with. Is its 350 degrees the same as my stove's at home? What about the burners? They're electric, not gas, like mine. The cultures are entirely different between gas and electric. This adjusting takes up almost two weeks. In the process, I burn several dishes, and myself.
Lamps, windows, cabinets, even chairs--they all require learning curves. Where's that switch to turn this &^%$# lamp off?
Finally, after four weeks, I think I've learned how to make everything work according to my own particular routines and predilections.
The time to leave is just around the corner.
I can't take these highly honed skills and newfound knowledge anywhere else. They only fit here, in this apartment.
Maybe I could loan myself out as a kind of apartment docent to anyone else who rents this place.
"Now, you'll notice this window shade is rather temperamental. I would suggest an angled pull on the cord, with the slightest tug at the end...."
Like everyone else, I just want to be useful.