Change of Address

In just about a month, all my earthly belongings will be sitting in cardboard boxes and Rubbermaid containers. My dad will borrow a trailer and my aunt will drive in from Oakwood. I'll wave goodbye to the little house on the prairie/airport, and drive into town. The freelance writer and his illustrator wife will shake my hand and give me a key, and I'll lope up the stairs to my fabulous new place.

Remember my dream sequence earlier this year, the one that included the awesome apartment? Somehow this will be a reality. I emailed the couple living there to ask them about internet and cable options. The response was that the tenant downstairs pays for internet, but gave them the password so they can use it for free. Given the huge importance of internet in my life (blogging, Facebook-ing, and getting the chance to see and hear Sky laugh all the way from Afghanistan), this could not have been sweeter news. This man is the only other renter, with his place the whole bottom floor, and I have a feeling he will be a decent neighbor between the free internet and the way he sits outside on the front steps, reading and smoking cigars. People who have wild parties, blast music, and have loud sex with the flavor of the week do not read on the front steps with cigar smoke around them. At least, this is my hope.

I'm extremely smug about this whole thing, to be perfectly honest. My current interest includes Ti-Voing the show "For Rent", and laughing wildly at people shelling out three times as much per month for much less space in a crap neighborhood (I also get ideas from the show, but this is a big part of it).  I adore daydreaming about the day to day life on Illinois. I picture Dena and I cooking something extremely messy that involves flour on the floor and aprons covered with gooey substances. I imagine nights out with friends that start or end at my place, a few blocks down the street from entertainment. There will be leisurely Friday nights sipping something on the outdoor patio at the Iron Post, walks to the library underneath white-blossomed trees, and mimosas at the cafe on Main Street. 

In fact, the more I think about it, the more it surpasses any description of the perfect place. Sure, I'll more than likely be perpetually broke. I think it's worth that to have almost everything I could want at my fingertips, though. There isn't much more that could add to this new turn in life, except one thing: calling to Sky from the next room to ask if he wants his jeans thrown in the load of laundry that's going in. But if I wait long enough, I'll see him walk up the stairs in apartment two. Maybe we'll let the laundry go to watch a movie instead.