It took me a while to do it, admittedly. After my breakup in 2011 I moved back in with my parents, reneging on a previous statement that I would never move out in the first place if there was a chance I would have to move back in. That can just get chalked up to love being blind, I suppose. So I moved home after being on my own for a few months at my duplex in Wrightstown and it was ok for the most part. I was able to stop hemorrhaging money toward astronomical electric and water bills (largely due to the 90 gallon salt water fish tank that contributed to said bills) and start paying down some of the debt incurred over the prior two years.
Living with my parents had never been a bad thing. I didn't grow up in a household that imprinted the idea of "Oh my GOD I've got to get out of here as soon as I can!" I wasn't much of a rule breaker and always respected my parents worries and fears, so adhering to the few rules they had instilled was never a problem. As I got older those rules obviously fell away (like a curfew) and they turned more into "respect our feelings and we'll respect yours." So you can see that going back to that wasn't a death sentence by any means, just a sort of "hang your head in shame" moment that my grand plans hadn't worked out like I thought they would.
It sucked at first because that first month and a half or so was spent living out of boxes. We would be moving to the new house (Parker Manor, as I dubbed it) and there was really no point in unpacking to have to do it again so soon. The original plan had been to be out of the house maybe by the fall, and then that was pushed back to the spring of 2012. But things happen and I kicked off the 26 Golden Things project and the amount of money THAT required meant I couldn't afford to move out in conjunction with it. It was an easy excuse.
I won't go into the FULL story of getting my apartment because it's not very interesting, suffice to say there was a quick one-week turn around between living at home/looking at places to finding one/actually moving into it. I was looking at moving out like it was a bandaid, and if I didn't do it quick I wouldn't do it at all. It's easy to stay somewhere cushy rather than move forward toward something unknown (kinda unknown.) The first week or two weren't wonderful because I wasn't able to get things unpacked and put away as quickly as I am accustomed to. That all had to do with my ankle hurting like a fool and a tricky little thing called "Wisconsin in spring" i.e. stupid snow and ice storms.
As of now, things are good and I'm mostly unpacked. The interesting behavior in me is starting to emerge once again (like the things that I do when I live alone.) I of course won't announce ALL of those things here but they include a lot of talking to myself, talking to the cats, empty threats to the cats for getting on the counter, and of course my OCD at cleaning things. When you live with your parents and your mom cleans everything for you, these tendencies fall by the waysuide. But on my own now they snap back into focus and suddenly I can't leave a dish in the sink for more than a few hours or go a couple days without wiping all surfaces down with Clorox wipes.
There are worse things in the world.
It has been great though, after those first couple weeks especially. As more and more pieces come out of storage and their respective cardboard boxes I start to feel more like I am at home. I had forgotten about many of the things I had packed away so in a lot of ways it has been exciting to go through my things and be reminded. I did find a few pictures and letters I had stored for some reason from my previous relationship and instead of panicking and tearing them apart like I had in the past, I just looked at them with a certain fondness and then put them away again. Maybe that's the sign of someone who has finally let go? I think so. And I think it's a good thing, too. Leaves more room for the next one (c;
I live four miles from work now... which shaves off about 52 minutes roundtrip from what my commute to work had been. That's never a bad thing. It's still kind of hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that I live in Appleton now and I assume it'll get easier once the weather really starts turning the other way and I am able to venture around without a car or a jacket (especially that last part (that reminds me, I need a bike (preferably a cheaper one (like free.)))
I said I'd start writing more and I mean to do so, I just need to get some roadblocks out of the way first. Do you guys mind the cheapie blogs such as this one? Because I can write these until I turn blue in the face, I just feel like you're not really getting a meaty story as usual. Which denotes I write meaty stories and I don't think that's always true, lol. But until I have some meatier ones... maybe I'll drop a few more of these. After all, it is my blog and I'm a big girl so I can do what I want. Wait that's not right.
Until then, I bid you adieu with a song I've been listening to on repeat. PS, something kinda great might be happening in my life and maybe I'll be able to share that with you soon. Watch for my owl!
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