I’m (still) Moving Out
Since Skip has all kinds of certifications, they allowed him on site even though they literally hadn’t built the stairs to the unit we decided on. He climbed up a ladder to explore the unit and called to report the news: That was not what we were looking for.
So we decided we’d go for the townhouse unit instead of an apartment.
I am completely aware that most people do not move into a brand new, two thousand square foot home from their parents house; needless to say, I couldn’t be more grateful.
We’ve already bought just about everything- a king sized bed, a new couch, a desk for my office and plate sets for hosting dinners. We’ve already signed up to host Thanksgiving dinner which may have been a bold move, but we’ll see.
I most certainly wouldn’t be able to afford it on my own, but it makes me feel like all of the hard work I’ve put in in the past few years has finally physically manifested into something.
I’ve made such progress, between education, work and my mental and physical health. It feels like the nightmare is over and I’ve finally woken up.
Everyone keeps asking me if I’m nervous to move out and to move in with a boyfriend for the first time and my answer is always no. I’m excited and I feel I have realistic expectations.
I know there’s going to be a learning curve, I know we’re going to have to pick up on cues to give each other space or alone time, I know I’m going to be annoyed about the fact that he leaves his coffee cups around and his clothes don’t always make it to the hamper. I know he’s going to be annoyed about me ordering food when we have food in the fridge and my obsessive compulsive cleaning habits.
I even realize that since I work from home, there will be days where I should go hang out with friends, or take my time at the grocery store, or go visit my parents, or take the dog for a walk by myself, just so he gets to enjoy the house by himself too.
We’re both on the same page about those things.
We seem to always be on the same page. Yesterday we started singing a song that neither of us had mentioned or listened to in maybe fifteen years at the same time.
To be totally honest, it was spooky.
And to add to that, it isn’t the first time something like that has happened. Whether it’s saying the same thing at the same time, or feeling the same way about something, or mentioning some show that we both wanted to watch.
It’s odd how we’re so in sync despite having different personalities that even each other out.
Anyway, after originally thinking we’d be moving in July and then finding out we’d have to wait until November and spending every day mentioning the move in some way, shape or form, and counting down from months.
We are officially 30 days out.
This is the last month I will spend in my childhood home.
Also, we’re getting a dog in February. I think I’m almost more excited about that.
Because ya know, dogs.
And now that I mention it, I hope Titan (my dog that is on the breed restriction list, so he’s technically not allowed at our new place but I have certified as an emotional support dog so I don’t think they can legally tell me he can’t live there) can get used to the new place. I’d love to have him live with me, but he’s already 9 and he’s so used to his routine and so attached to my Mom I don’t want to stress him out. That is the only thing that I’m scared of and sad about.
Like I said, 30 days.
