Moving Day

I know that lately I’ve managed to do my normal, amazing disappearing act, of which I’ve nearly perfected over the past several years. (Yay, ninja skills!) I promise I’m not ignoring my blog but, you guys, boy have things changed in the last month and a half. I think I forget what life used to be like. Zoey, this post is particularly for you. You always think my life is interesting. This time, it actually is. Are you ready for some exciting news?

I am moving. When, you ask? This Saturday. When did I decide this? Two days ago. No, I’m not kidding. Only I could come up with something this ridiculous sober. Maybe I’m one of those people alcohol was made for. We will never know. Either way, I’m moving this Saturday with basically nothing packed and no one to help me move my bed. It should be interesting, special, ridiculous, funny and everything in between.

For those of you who have been with me during all the years I’ve been blogging, you know I haven’t been happy with my living arrangement for awhile. If I were moving because of that, it would be helpful. Unfortunately, there was a situation with my insurance and it’s forcing my hand. I would get into the entire story, but it’s so stupid it’s almost unbelievable. In fact, I thought someone was punking me, so I both called and went into the office to talk to someone about my insurance, each time with the same result. Apparently, insurance companies are as senseless as their reputation perceives.

To add fuel to the fire, I’m moving in with my guy friend. I swear if one more person asks me if I’m moving in with my boyfriend someone is going to be bailing me out of prison. At least I have a friend who is my designated bail-me-out-of-prison person, and it’s not the same person I’m moving in with. (Some of us need one of those.) I’ve known this friend for six or seven years, so long that neither of us can remember exactly how long. His girlfriend approves of us living together and encouraged it, her mom approves of us living together, and his mom approves of us living together, THAT’S how long we’ve known each other. I’m also going to be sanctioning off the dining room with curtains or some other contraption we’ve not discovered yet and making it my bedroom. There’s so many ways this can go wrong and one way it can go right, but somehow it’s going to go right and it’s going to be awesome. (Lest I eat crow on this later. Sue me for being an optimist.)

I’m super nervous about moving. The last time I moved I was eleven and didn’t own anything. Now I’m twenty-six, own an obscene amount of things that will never fit in the apartment, and I have to figure out how to downsize it. I’m going from the country to right smack dab in the middle of an urban area over an hour away. No more driving twenty minutes for bread, I can just walk. No more driving over an hour to the doctor’s, they’re twenty minutes away. But no more letting little Greta outside in the fenced in yard either or looking across the street at a horse farm. No more doing whatever I feel like. I have to watch what I wear and have a roommate now. No more taking paranormal cases for the historical society or volunteering with the wildlife center, because both will be too far away.  No more being home alone ninety percent of the time and having so much downtime that I become the most socially awkward person on the planet. No more having a bathroom to myself, we’re sharing. (Yes, somewhere along the line this is going to turn into a great set up for a television show. Maybe I’ll make a blog just about our living arrangement and hope someone comes along and wants to buy the rights to it. No, I’m not a dreamer. Why do you ask?) I’m going from my own customized bedroom to somehow making a dining room into my own space. I’m interested to see how this is going to go, but once I figure it out I will post some pictures of my space and chat you all up about it.

In the midst of all of this, I still have the normal medical junk going on, though I’ve been a little more stable. I have to have some testing done this week, more appointments to make when the tests comes back, and two other appointments in the next two weeks. Those two, of course, are down where near I live now. Murphy’s Law and what not. Life doesn’t slow down, not for a minute. I’m in such a transition phase right now that I don’t even know what to do with myself. On the other hand, the doctors have finally, finally, finally, after five years, identified that I have Sjogren’s. It was the least lethal of the auto-immune options, so I’m going to take it and not complain. My doctor also fully approves of the move and thinks it will give us a chance to test if there were any environmental factors to my illness. She’s actually supporting the move and telling me it will be a positive thing and she wants me to go through with it, so I guess if I ever needed a sign that I’m doing the right thing, there it is.

One of the unfortunate things about the move is that I am leaving all my animals, except for Greta, behind. Sometimes, animals leave you behind, too. A few days ago my beloved cat, Sophie, died. If you all remember, she’s the creepy cat that used to stare at me for unprecedented amounts of time and creep all of us out. I never thought I’d miss her being creepy, but I really, really do. If it counts, I’m sure she’s in Heaven staring at me. Goodbye, Sophie.

There’s nothing in my life that’s not changing now, and I am monumentally bad with change, so hang in there with me until I get to post again. In fact, I’m so bad with change that I haven’t even stopped and thought about what was going on, except for on Monday when I full out cried and then wondered what was wrong with me because that just seemed like a stupid thing to cry about. I’ve just moved forward with it. For now, I’ll just give you guys a short story so you can all understand just how insane this idea and move are. (Zoey, this story is also for you.)

Today, while I was trying to pack with the whole half dozen boxes I have and mass amount of items that won’t fit in them, my mom realized that she just couldn’t possibly have a use for all of the stuff that we have, considering she’s one person and we have too much stuff for two. This worked out well, because the things she didn’t need were extra pans, cups, dishes and the like. These are all things we can use. In an attempt to be nice, my mom offered us the glass dishes and cups, because she never has anyone over and thought we might appreciate them more than the colorful plastic pieces. As I was weighing out the option of taking the fancy glass stuff, I realized that the friend and I’m moving in with and myself both have a mutual friend who will, without a doubt, break every glass and dish we have on complete and total accident if they’re glass. I took the plastic. It kind of started out as a joke, but we realized we have to friend proof our apartment so that everything is in tact when he leaves. Everything I buy, I’m making sure it’s nothing he can break. Things are going to get special, you guys. Really special. Huge changes are coming. It’s going to be good, though, right?

One thought on “Moving Day

  1. I always love reading your stories. Your writing style fascinates me, and it is always lovely to hear / read how you talk to people. Your life, too, seems far more adventurous than my own — I do not have anything as exciting happening to me! The soonest I will be moving is to University, if I do not pass my exams.

    I am, however, a little put out that you are not moving in with me. We can have twelve cats and all the other animals!

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