*Downsize from 49 pairs of shoes, because that is absolutely ridiculous. However, revel in the Sex and the City feel of the shelving for them. ***Note that, since the original writing of this post, the number has increased to a round 50 pairs.
*Realize that the dryer in the basement should mean there are no clotheslines, and be skeptical when you see them instead of thinking they are charmingly quaint.
*Related to above; do not attempt to dry two washer loads of towels for a much needed shower in less than 24 hours. Also, do not expect them to air dry in the bathroom layered on top of each other.
*Do not spend the first night at your new place with most things packed, a heavy heart, and the wildest thunderstorm of the year.
*Take a friend’s advice when she tells you to live it up and dance naked just because you can. Do so emphatically and maybe even provocatively to Billie Holiday’s “Summertime”.
*Understand that any couple, no matter how seemingly cute and organic, with their vegetable garden and flower pots, is not above screaming the f word at 11 at night.
*Expect homesickness for places, but more so for people.
* Ignore the temptation to call anyone who would talk or text anyone who would text back…accept a little loneliness as a part of this.
*Be grateful beyond words when a friend feels sorry for you and offers to go on a walk. Roam the downtown streets lined with globed lamps and trees. Be thankful.
*Don’t dwell too much on the boyfriend who hasn’t moved in yet, or productivity will severely decrease.
*Be truly humbled when your father stocks you up for your first grocery store run.
*Resist the temptation to introduce yourself formally to the neighbors only to ask for their wireless password. Survive the week without it until you get your own. Rejoice.
*Do not expect to sleep for the first week, when every creek, hum, and bump is nerve-wracking-ly new.
*Open a box sitting on your steps after work. Smile at the address and the shipping container. Look through the most thoughtfully-packed items-from the lemon cake and Italian because she knows you and she reads your blog, to the Office magnets that remind you of her crazy fridge. Think it is so rare and so wonderful that you hugged her goodbye months ago, and she still finds ways to be thoughtful and give you your first housewarming presents.
*Get past the idea of a bath being gross when leg muscles ache beyond belief from heavy boxes in stairways.
*Decide baths can be quite delicious once in a while, especially bubble baths.
*Chill out on not making any noise above the neighbors when their conversations, their forks hitting plates, and their every movement back and forth are audible.
*Light candles quickly so it will smell like home.
*Chalk up the noise from the neighborhood drummer to background music. After all, it’s too quiet otherwise. And find comfort in the people upstairs in the next house talking about bacon, the little girl across the street in a ballerina outfit, an obnoxious kid on a trampoline screaming hello, the lady who walks her dog and takes picture of it every day, and the old man riding his bike with a rainjacket.
*Spend your first Monday after work walking to the library to get a card. Use it frequently to get movies if nothing else.
*Fill salt and pepper shakers and buy milk right away.
*Accept the shower pressure for what it is.
*Get a radio into the apartment before anything else.
*Pause to lie on the floor with a popsicle and scan the radio for a good song; listen to Don McLean sing about Chevys at levees for a moment.
*Wash dishes needed for morning oatmeal, lunch time milk, and nighttime snacks when the insomnia kicks in.
*Delight in the floor getting cleaner with every box gone-imagine it in fast forward, like some kind of movie montage.
*Try not to be annoyed that the entire apartment, even after shutting the windows your father opened in every room, feels like an icebox.
*Vow to put up pictures soon.
*Be secretly grateful that moving in on the U of I graduation weekend means not having to feel like a loser when everyone walks around with dark blue gowns and big smiles. (Be grateful that if you ever do graduate, you won’t have to hear a talk by Suze Orman.)
*Feel just a bit smug at living where all the professors live instead of in a seedy campus shack. Feel smug for being able to do so and not wear corduroys and coats with elbow patches.
*Wonder why every apartment in Champaign-Urbana smells of curry. Use lots of Febreeze and oil diffusers until it goes away.
*Reread past conversations with your boyfriend because not communicating this little for this long is much harder than you even thought.
*Try not to sigh when you are asked about how the move went and if you like the place.
*Go home from work at lunch. Take a break. Eat leftover pizza while you stand in the kitchen and listen to the church bells. Type. Play you’re a favorite Ben Folds song on the piano, and belt out the lyrics because the downstairs tenants are away.
*Eat breakfast in the dining room, curled up in one of the big chairs you just bought. *Watch people walk to the farmer’s market. Love that you can do this in your pajamas.
*Trade your normal pajamas for a men’s undershirt and underwear because you don’t have to be decent for anyone.
*Be very excited when you mistake natural light for leaving the switches on, and think the light alone make it worth the rent.
*Don’t sit down to write long lists and blog posts when there’s half a house to put away.
*Grit your teeth and do this.
Because it’s time.
Because you’re actually happy about it, but just not great with such big changes.
Because he’ll be home in a couple months to hold you at night and smile at you in the morning.
Because this is what adults do.
Because you’re an adult.
Act like one.
1 kind comments from you:
That was a great summary about having your own place
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