Skip to main content

The Move, p. 1.

So today is the big day. Well, one of them. But it's the first one! So that's still a big deal.

I love how I call this "The Move" as though it's the first and last time I'll ever move. Of course it isn't the first; though it could be the last--maybe I'll just keep renting this house forever. Meh, not so likely. But as my dad pointed out last night, this is possibly the biggest move I've made yet. It's more or less the "There's no going back" move.

Craaaaaazy.

For those of you who don't know, I'm moving out to College Park, right next to campus (4 min bike ride from the center of campus, 20 min walk) for dirt cheap.

As I said to my roommate when I gave her the key, "It's a shithole, but it's our shithole now."

And it's actually not that bad. There are things I poke fun at--the obviously ancient overhead lighting that's likely older than the house itself, always a source of bemusement for me--but as a whole it's a solid little house. A house. With a yard--front and back. And my own room--decently sized, too, at about 11' x 12'. And we're taking Marcel with us; obviously we're taking Marcel with us. That cat deserves free reign and constant love. Seriously.

Honestly, I can hardly wait to get settled in. Of course that won't be fully actualized until late next week at earliest, but still. Being able to kick back with my cat and a book or a game or even homework, in my own space; being able to meander over to campus for class or socializing with ease; even coming home exhausted from work or school ready to pass the fuck out but knowing I still have at least an hour or two before I can sleep. Feeling like a grownup. Yeah....

Of course, in time, those will become all the things I hate most. But, until then at least, I'm excited.

I've had some taste of it the last week or so. I'v been holed up to various degrees as I recover with Marcel at my side, enjoying a(n extended) moment of relaxation with either a book or a video game or a youtube. Of course it's not as gratifying yet--it's not like I'm coming home from work or school to my own little space and my own little responsibilities--but it's been nice.

So today.

Today, Parker comes over and helps me load up all the small stuff. Books, clothes, lamps, drawers--all the things that can fit in my parents' car. Then we haul it over to the new house in as many trips as it takes so that all that we have left tomorrow is the furniture. For that, I've mobilized a small army. It should be hopefully painless. I'll be in contact with most of them today, confirming and coordinating.

Then over the next several days I'll be between homes. I have my post-op appointment Monday and things like internet and my new computer monitor won't be set up/arrive until around Thursday. I may not be able to push and pull heavy things by that point, either, so it may be a state of disarray for a bit.

But, dude. It will be mine. My space. My home. My friends and things and cat and all, under one roof. My roof. It's gonna be awesome, I just have to keep working hard to continue earning it, to continue living the dream I've had for half a decade--finally realized.

It's gonna be good, it's gonna be great. But this is just day one. Oh boy, the fun we'll have.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Or just tell me what you think.

Other things that might interest you...

On aging, and fear.

To begin with, I’m not sure you’re aware of it, but I’m middle aged. Oh? What gave it away? Using a blog as my primary literary medium?¹ Hm. But in fact, the APA defines 35 years as the end of “young adulthood.” Yeah. I found out via some shitpost on twitter when I was already 35, so it didn’t sit well with me then either. But my worries about aging began much sooner than that. See, even in my 20s, I feared I’d been wasting my life. I’d struggled with school and life and everything since graduating high school, arguably sooner, and nothing seemed to be going anywhere meaningful . I felt I had a limited social life, a dead-end job, no money, no great travels, a limping love life; I was, generally, a loser, wasting away... There were none of the usual hallmarks of success or happiness. And that scared me. Would my life have been worth it if I continued in this direction? Would it have been a “life well lived” by the end? So, this is my existential struggle. Even now, as I lurch ever nea...
Post a Comment
Read more

Changing lanes.

I was driving home in some traffic last night when I drifted, in my mind, a long way back (about 20 years) to high school. I was caught in one of those periodic traffic slowdowns as I floated back; you know, those waves of congestion that seem to pass backward through the columns of cars in each lane. (I've heard they start because someone switches lanes, and in response, a rippling emergent slowness travels backward and outward as the cars behind it accommodate the change, one by one.) What drew me back to those younger days was that, back in high school, similar phenomena of congestion took place in the halls between classes, when eddies of young humans would get caught in and around those clumps of those chatting by lockers or retrieving books. Occasionally, backups would occur when groups of people got caught in these eddies, or collided with other groups by the lockers, and slowdowns would ripple back from there. Maybe it's not exactly the same, but as I drove it seemed si...
Post a Comment
Read more

Oatmeal is tasty.

{slurps up berry-oatmeal-deliciousness} Indeed. I need to work on rebuilding a morning schedule. I can be zombie-like enough that I'll waste a perfectly good morning, and have often slept through many. And, really, it's such a useful time of day.
4 comments
Read more