I gave notice on my apartment today. I never fully settled into this apartment - there are boxes still full, and I never worked out systems for where things go. First I was waiting until I got a dresser, and then no sooner had I gotten the dresser at the church yard sale than my friend M. and I started talking about the possibility of living together. She has a big, expensive apartment with three bedrooms, and she needs a roommate, and I have a too-small apartment, and I'm ready to have a roommate again.
I think.
I've lived alone for about five years of my adult life: two years in Rwanda and nearly three years in Gone West. I loved it and I hated it. I loved the feeling that it didn't matter if I didn't wash those dishes in the sink for the third day in a row, and I hated the feeling that it didn't matter if I didn't clean, ever. Sometimes I just want to be alone, but other times I wish that there was someone watching tv when I walk in the door so that things aren't so dark and quiet.
And so, I will be moving again.
In honor of moving, or just because I wanted to get out of my apartment and had nothing to do tonight save sit around and go to bed early so I can get up for a 5K thingie (I will be walking, not running), I decided to go get some paint for the dresser.
After driving a 14-mile loop around the northern part of Universe City, I returned home, paint-less. One home improvement store was closed and the other two I somehow... missed. I don't know. I am new here. But at least I know where that one highway is that everyone talks about, and also that other road. So that is good.
The other things I needed were moisturizer and contact solution, and I stopped at an everything store to get them and somehow ended up with moisturizer and a new ipod touch (what?), but no contact solution, leading me to spend a frantic half hour just now looking for any left-over contact solution in my bags and backpacks, to no avail, and finally resorting to opening an old contact case or two and carefully decanting the tiny amount left in them into the current case so my contacts don't dry out overnight.
It's always a good day when I get to use the word decant in a sentence. It might be my favorite word, possibly.
I think.
I've lived alone for about five years of my adult life: two years in Rwanda and nearly three years in Gone West. I loved it and I hated it. I loved the feeling that it didn't matter if I didn't wash those dishes in the sink for the third day in a row, and I hated the feeling that it didn't matter if I didn't clean, ever. Sometimes I just want to be alone, but other times I wish that there was someone watching tv when I walk in the door so that things aren't so dark and quiet.
And so, I will be moving again.
In honor of moving, or just because I wanted to get out of my apartment and had nothing to do tonight save sit around and go to bed early so I can get up for a 5K thingie (I will be walking, not running), I decided to go get some paint for the dresser.
After driving a 14-mile loop around the northern part of Universe City, I returned home, paint-less. One home improvement store was closed and the other two I somehow... missed. I don't know. I am new here. But at least I know where that one highway is that everyone talks about, and also that other road. So that is good.
The other things I needed were moisturizer and contact solution, and I stopped at an everything store to get them and somehow ended up with moisturizer and a new ipod touch (what?), but no contact solution, leading me to spend a frantic half hour just now looking for any left-over contact solution in my bags and backpacks, to no avail, and finally resorting to opening an old contact case or two and carefully decanting the tiny amount left in them into the current case so my contacts don't dry out overnight.
It's always a good day when I get to use the word decant in a sentence. It might be my favorite word, possibly.
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