Bye Bye Apartment
I close on my house in about two weeks and I hope to move the weekend after Thanksgiving. So you think I'd be in a huge hurry to unload my apartment, right?
Wrong.
For some reason, I've had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I have to leave my place. Sure, I'm THRILLED to get away from the barking dogs, sketchy neighborhood and weird guy across the street who watches all of my comings and goings. But my apartment itself has been like my haven these past 20 months. It represents the first time I lived by myself, the place where I really had to grow up and be on my own. No husband. No boyfriend. No roommate. Just me. It's been good to me since I moved in last April, and now I feel like I'm betraying it. It kept me warm when the snow fell thickly on the street. It watched me write hundreds of pages in papers and homework assignments. It welcomed friends and family and gave me somewhere to relax when I needed to.
But when I start to wax nostalgic about my place, I try to recall all the bad stuff: the police swarming the building behind mine earlier this year, my bathroom ceiling caving in thanks to Drunken Upstairs Neighbor and his overflowing bathtub, the lovely little mouse I had last Christmas and the one I recently heard scampering across my ceiling, the gunshots I'm sure I heard last month, the dog that doesn't stop barking his ugly head off next door.
With these things in mind, I posted my apartment to craigslist and some other places tonight. Though I'm sad about it, I really think I'm ready to say goodbye to this place now and get on with the process of making my little brick house home.
Wrong.
For some reason, I've had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I have to leave my place. Sure, I'm THRILLED to get away from the barking dogs, sketchy neighborhood and weird guy across the street who watches all of my comings and goings. But my apartment itself has been like my haven these past 20 months. It represents the first time I lived by myself, the place where I really had to grow up and be on my own. No husband. No boyfriend. No roommate. Just me. It's been good to me since I moved in last April, and now I feel like I'm betraying it. It kept me warm when the snow fell thickly on the street. It watched me write hundreds of pages in papers and homework assignments. It welcomed friends and family and gave me somewhere to relax when I needed to.
But when I start to wax nostalgic about my place, I try to recall all the bad stuff: the police swarming the building behind mine earlier this year, my bathroom ceiling caving in thanks to Drunken Upstairs Neighbor and his overflowing bathtub, the lovely little mouse I had last Christmas and the one I recently heard scampering across my ceiling, the gunshots I'm sure I heard last month, the dog that doesn't stop barking his ugly head off next door.
With these things in mind, I posted my apartment to craigslist and some other places tonight. Though I'm sad about it, I really think I'm ready to say goodbye to this place now and get on with the process of making my little brick house home.
1 Comments:
Amen, sistah!
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