There are several things I do not have in my new apartment…
I do not have a sofa. Indeed, my bum has but a minor selection of surfaces upon which to rest–a bubble chair my mom salvaged from my teenaged bedroom, a couple of stools, and my new pink desk chair. I miss cushy couches.
I do not have a television… not that I watch much to begin with, but I miss it now more than ever.
But the pièce de résistance… *dun dun dun* I do not have reliable internets! My account won’t come through until the 15th, so I’m at the mercy of my neighbor’s wi-fi, which likes to go to sleep at odd intervals and leave me bereft of webby goodness.
In the meantime, I am editing and reading and figuring out how to shift for myself. Now, if only I could figure out how to get my windows to close properly so I don’t have to hear every nighttime sound.
A number of things happened last month that culminated in my speeding up my goal to find a place to live on my own. It was time. Nothing bad prompted this–though there were (and are) issues at home that swayed the decision-making process–it just felt like time to move out. Two years ago, I made the decision to pay student loans over moving out. There were times when I seriously questioned that choice, as it seemed like I wasn’t quite an adult yet, but I’m at a point now where I can manage for the few months that it will take to finish off the last of my loans while also paying rent.
The apartment hunt was a lot shorter than I imagined, as I was led to a good place by one of the boy’s friends. I had been searching the listings during the last two years, but none of the places I considered compared to what I found. The place itself is kind of a fixer upper, but it just needs some care, no major repairs. It was lived in by a single guy. No one can imagine the state of the place before my mom and I cleaned it… which is another thing, my mom is taking this move in classic empty-nester mode. It’ll be some time before she really comes ’round. I tweeted about my being a Cuban girl and how moving out is a pretty big deal…it really is. Many Hispanic women tend to stay home unless they get married, and some even after they marry. My mom lived on her own for a few years because of certain circumstances that made it impossible for her to stay with her family, but she didn’t really like living alone. I, however, am a true only child. I love the quiet of being alone. And I love decorating! Yes, I do.
This will be a year for change and growth and all that. So ttfn, or at least until I get a network connection going in the apartment. Then, there will be posts galore and writing. *I haven’t written or edited a word since I started looking for a place and it’s killing my spirit*