…In a big city, they just dropped me off (thanks T-Swift for
the situation-appropriate lyrics). I should note that I’m not exactly in a big
city – more like suburbia – but nevertheless, I finally have a place to myself.
And it sure feels good.
Last weekend was a blur of moving boxes, packing tape and questions from my parents along the lines of “Why do you have so much stuff?” and “Are you sure your employer is taking you back?” and “How can you stand to live in this filth?” Then of course there was the lease signing and the utility calling and the renter’s insurance decision. Then the roommate goodbyes and the dreaded drive away from campus (I might have had a few tears in my eyes). Then the Walmart trips, the grocery shopping, the unpacking, the organizing, the cleaning. And the list goes on.
But I’m relieved to say I’m FINALLY settled (Huge thanks go
out to my parents, especially my dad who drove a U-Haul eight hours from my
hometown. A thank you is also in order for my cousin who was so hungover while
helping me move that he could barely keep his eyes open.)
So far, I couldn’t be happier with my new place. Name a store
or restaurant, and I can guarantee you there’s one within three miles. I live
close enough to work that I can come home for lunch (which I do because I have
no friends at work now that the other interns are back at school…sad face). My
gym (which I’ll discuss in a future post) is five minutes away. There are really
only two downsides at the moment (well three actually).
1) My apartment décor
could be described as half grandma, half college student. Because my grandma
recently moved from independent to assistant living, I got many of her old things.
Good timing, sad situation. Let’s just say there’s a lot I’d like to do to
spruce the place up when I have the money to do it. I WAS, however, pretty
satisfied with my bookshelf-organizing skills. Then again what do I know. I’m
no interior designer. So if anyone out there with street cred wants to critique
my setup (at right), fire away.
2) I’m lonely (cue violins). I thought I’d love living by
myself but I realize I miss having people around when I get home (even if they
leave dirty dishes in the sink and practice musical instruments in the middle
of the night…if any of my old roommates are reading this, I’m sorry. I love
you.). Being the only one here has brought out the anal, borderline OCD me. I
mean seriously, I caught myself straightening the remote on my coffee table. I
need help. Or meds. Or a cat (which brings me to my third point).
3) I don’t have a cat. I’ve always loved cats and grew up
with a gray tabby. I wanted one all through college but told myself I’d wait
until I had an apartment of my own. Bam, here I am. Of course, I’ve had to
endure endless “crazy cat lady” jokes from my friends. My rational boyfriend
thinks I should wait a couple weeks to make sure I’ve thought it through
completely (aka come to my senses and realize I shouldn't get one). My parents want me to wait until I have a full-time position lined
up. But I went to the animal shelter today (oops) and I met the most PRECIOUS, most
ADORABLE orange tabby kitten. I applied. They’re calling tomorrow. Oh boy.
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