It’s been a couple weeks since I wrote here. I have a lot of half-posts that I have yet to complete or review, most of which are talking about current events and how I feel about them, a classic klarsonism. But for some reason, I haven’t been able to finish any of my thoughts as of late. Maybe I’m too overwhelmed by all the shitty things happening in the world. Maybe I’ve just been too busy to sit down and think clearly about anything, especially myself.
I will admit, a lot has happened in the last couple weeks. All summer, I had been waiting patiently for August 1 (my sublease ended August 2), the day I would be able to live in my new apartment instead of subletting from someone who can’t build a dresser. However, on July 28, I learned that I couldn’t actually move in until August 15th, which is today. And I was like, holy crap, I’m gonna be homeless for 2 weeks. I freaked out, called my boyfriend, called my dad, and then immediately booked an AirBnb. Luckily, I was going to Seattle to visit family for a week anyways, so I only ended up spending $750 for the one week I would have been alternatively homeless. So there was no need for me to freak out because everything turned out fine, unless you ask my bank account, which would tell you that everything is not fine at all.
Shortly after this, I flew back to Seattle. I was met at the airport by my boyfriend, who had flown in the day before, and my sister, who immediately handed me a giant, half-eaten, stale bundt cake and informed me it was actually a birthday donut she and Joe had made that morning. It was not. It was a stale bundt cake from a week ago.
Having my partner at my parent’s house with me was definitely a weird experience, as I never had boys (or girls, for that matter) really ever come over when I was growing up. But I really enjoyed his presence, as it gave me a constant reminder of the life I have built for myself after moving away. Whenever I return to my childhood home, I also return to all the “teenage angst” (read: serious mental health issues that manifested as a bitchy teenager) that built up over the years. I am not proud of the who I was in high school, and I believe I have become a much better person than the girl I was when I lived in that house. So every time I go back, especially for longer periods of time, I’m reminded of all the experiences I had growing up that contributed to the negative aspects of who I was, and who I still am sometimes. And then I feel angry at myself for victimizing and throwing a “pity party” for myself, as a friend used to say, which throws me into this ugly cycle of self-deprecation. Anyways, it sucks, and it makes me feel like I suck, so I don’t like going home for too long. But having Joe there was nice, and despite everything I’ve said, I had a really nice time with my parents. My grandparents even flew up from California! And best of all, I got to spend a lot of time with my little sister, who, as you can see in the photo of her drinking a glass of wine with me, isn’t that little anymore.
When I got back to Nashville at midnight the next Tuesday (I guess it was technically Wednesday), I took a Lyft (I don’t use Uber, thnk u vry mch) to my old apartment to pick up my car, into which I had crammed literally everything I owned before I left on vacation, and drove to my AirBnb, where I lived for a week. And then yesterday, finally, I moved into my new home.
It’s small, a studio apartment, but it’s mine. It has all hardwood floors and a very high ceiling. I spent all of yesterday moving everything from my Prius (long live the white whale) in the pouring rain (just my luck, right?). It feels nice to have all my things inside my home instead of stuffed into my car. I can use the rear view mirror again! And fit passengers in the backseat!
While I am far from unpacked, it gives me peace of mind to know that I can settle into a place I can finally call my home. But more on that later. First, I have to unpack…