I cannot even begin to adequately express the relief that my move is over.
Nearly every night since the move (which was over two weeks ago), I’ve sat in my living room looking around at my place, unable to fully grasp that I’m really there.
I expected this feeling to fade quickly once I settled in, but as it turns out, unpacking and assembling furniture and making the place mine… has only served to make the whole thing more surreal.
It’s hard to explain why this is. I’ve been living in my own place, to some degree or another, since I was sixteen–a decade now. Of course, at first it was dorms and only during the school year. But haven’t lived at home for a full summer since my first year of undergrad, and I got my first apartment–shared, of course–before I turned twenty. I had an apartment to myself for the first year of graduate school. I’ve shared three different apartments with two different partners, and had more than a dozen different non-partner roommates. Phone calls with strangers are one of my least favorite things in the world, something I often have to bribe myself into doing, but calling to put the utilities in my name is so familiar now that this time it inspired only the faintest flutter of anxiety. I’ve packed and unpacked, requested mail forwarding, and changed the addresses on all my bank accounts… more times than I even want to think about. I could probably list all of the places I’ve lived if I had to, but only because I’ve never been good at cleaning out the address book on my amazon account, and dorm building addresses can be googled. It’s a long list.
All of which is to say… almost nothing about this experience is new. But somehow, it feels different than every time before, for reasons I haven’t been able to really pin down. The closest I’ve come to explaining it is to say that this is the first time I’ve had my own place where I felt like it was happening for real, and done entirely under my own power. I’m not a student, not living someplace temporary, not sharing space with another person who owns all of the furniture. This is my real life, and I built it. Damn.
Another thing I’m overflowing with gratitude for is that, for the first time ever, I have my own pets. I love having pets–I grew up with dogs, and fell in love with rats while working with them in the lab. My girlfriend had rats that I bonded with when we were together, but they were still hers, and went with her when we split. I’ve wanted to get my own ever since, but was waiting until I was sure I would be settled for awhile. Finally that is true, and I got my girls this past weekend.
Geordi was born blind (hence the name). This doesn’t appear to hold her back at all–in fact, she’s much more interested in exploring than Dax, who spends a lot of time hiding and startles easily. Rats don’t have the greatest eyesight to begin with, and rely heavily on touch and smell, so I have every reason to expect that she’ll live a fairly normal life. Of course I try to be considerate and give her lots of audio cues when we’re playing, and I won’t rearrange the cage as much as I would if both my ratties were sighted.
Anyhow, I’m having loads of fun getting to know them, but I won’t gush about them too much more here. If you feel like getting bombarded by adorable baby rat photos, you can follow me on instagram.
Anyhow, all of that said–though life is looking good these days, I’ve been slow to return to life as usual because I’ve also been exhausted. Moving is an incredibly anxiety provoking process for me, and that plus an annoying cold have ensured that the last two weeks have been pretty low-energy. I’m finally starting to shake it off though, so hopefully I’ll be back to posting regularly now. I have some exciting things to tell you about in the near-ish future, some changes to the site hopefully by the end of the year, and of course the return of link roundups ASAP. Oh, and I will probably rant about Ebola, because the media is losing its shit here in the US and they’re driving me fucking bonkers.
*jedi hugs* all!
It’s good to be back.