30 Days

Last night my roommate and I gave our 30-day notice to the landlady. Yes, folks, I am on the move once again. I move a lot for someone who likes stability. Not by choice; it has just worked out that way. This past year was kind of an experiment anyway. I wasn't sure it would last, and I turned out to be correct. Maybe I should listen to myself more? But no, I think everything worked out and is working out as it should. This year was something I needed to learn about myself: I am not a roommate type of person. Honestly, I already knew that but I thought perhaps I could push that aside in favor of spending less on rent and being able to have a bigger place to live. Instead I found that I really prefer living on my own, I'm pretty sure with the added utilities I ended up spending at least the same if not more than I was before, and that more space means more to keep up. Ugh. But if I hadn't tried it, I would always have wondered. Now I know for sure. I also know that I am willing to spend a bit more to keep what sanity I have. This is the same lesson I thought I had already learned when I stopped carpooling a few years ago. Oh well, I am stubborn.

So now the adventure begins again. This, for me, is the stressful part. I don't mind moving; I have moved many, many times in my life. All I really need is a weekend to get everything done. And I actually enjoy the opportunity to reorganize and change things around. It's the not knowing what's happening yet that stresses me out. Once I find a place that feels right and everything is settled, I will feel fine. Until then I will run my stress out on my treadmill. (I found something last night that sounds like it could be a good fit, but I haven't received a response yet. So prayers and good thoughts sent my way would be much appreciated.)

Aside from the stress of finding a place, making sure all the funds are in place and arranging packing/moving/etc., I'm pretty excited for this. I can't wait to be living on my own again! I miss having my own space so much that I've even thought longingly of my last place, which I absolutely HATED. And this time I want to do things like decorate and hang pictures and stuff, which I never do. Does that mean I'm growing up finally? Trying to put down some roots? I am 30 now, after all. I keep dreaming about art on walls - clusters of pictures, photos I've had for years, cityscapes and landscapes - and perhaps a comfy chair by a window where I can read away a Sunday. Maybe some wall shelves. I've always wanted floating wall shelves. Maybe painting the walls a color that isn't white? So many possibilities. I want it to feel like home, not just the place I currently live. I want it to feel like me. I want to get up earlier and savor the quiet time to myself. I want to pull my ballet barre out and my pilates machine. I want to use the things I have that I love and purge the things I don't want, don't need and don't use. I want things to be simpler and cleaner. I want to be more of who I was in my first place, which I absolutely loved and still miss. It was small, but it was lovely and all I really needed. Sigh. Good times. And I can have that again; I just need to find the place.