Not really. More like, a year out of the house. August 1 of last year I became the proud renter of this silent little isle I call home. According to my scribbles from last year, on July 21, 2009, news of the approval came in. On July 25, 2009, the packing began. The following are jottings from various entries leading up to the move.
"Looking through history. That's what happens when packing for a move."
"I'm feeling harried. That or stressed. Just feeling harried - pushed by forces I helped bring to life but now have precious little control over. It feels like a bloody whirlwind."
"It's amazing how much is needed (stuff most would consider basic requirement) for one person."
"My God, it's becoming more real. I now have insurance. My possessions have worth in the eyes of others."
My bed went in on August 3, which made the move pretty much set in stone. I had tons of doubts and was questioning myself to no end. More jottings from this time.
"The reality continues to sink in, and there have been a couple of squalls. There is also a sense of wonder and even a sense of pleasure. A sense of knowing I triumphed and have a space that is mine to take care of and enjoy."
"It took a while for me to fall asleep, given that my worries came for another visit."
"I bought a desk and a futon. I cannot believe how much money I'm spending! And all for me!"
Since those first doubting, timid steps into this different place, I have learned quite a bit. Not so much about cooking, but I've had plenty of time to look within and have deep thoughts about life in general. I have remained TV-free (apart from when I visit the parentals), spend time reading, watching DVD's, or hanging around online. One of these days I'll be a little more productive with my free time. Anyway, that's all for now. Here's to a second year of apartment life (unless I win the lottery and go condo)!