Moving by yourself has to be one of the most depressing things in life.
I’ve done it before, last summer. I rented a Uhaul, covered myself with grody bruises and a fine layer of sweat. The Uhaul guys laughed at me when I returned the truck after one hour on the dot (who actually rents a Uhaul for only one hour?) and because my feet couldn’t reach the pedals. This time was a little different. I didn’t have to rent a Uhaul, but everything else felt infinitely harder.
You see, the first apartment I saw, I fell in love with. It had beautiful views, hardwood floors and was in the perfect location of my favorite neighborhood. But I hesitated. I’m not a rash person and handing over that much money (more than I was planning on spending) scared the bejeeszus out of me. Four hours later I called the manager back to say that I definitely wanted the apartment… but she had already signed the papers with someone else. And I was devastated. In comparison, everything paled and the managers were incredibly rude. I spent that weekend in a panic, trying to find somewhere, anywhere that might work for me. When I came across the apartment that became mine, I saw a lot of potential and the manager seemed like a nice guy, so I signed. I wasn’t in love with the apartment like that first one, but I figured that I could make changes to make it better, make it mine. Then reality set in. After I forked over $400, I was told no changes could be made to the apartment, I couldn’t move in on the day I wanted and the rent was higher than I expected. And that nice guy manager? Turns out he is a really good actor… and not that nice of guy after all.
So I made the move. I’ll spare you the cranky details, but let’s just say it wasn’t a happy day. Lugging the few things you own up a flight of stairs just isn’t fun. Plus, my inner clean freak had to disinfect the grim that covered everything before I could move anything in. Then, something awful happened. As I was driving my final load to the new apartment I saw that I had a missed call. Guess who? The manager from the first, most perfect apartment… telling me that the other person fell through last second and she wants to rent the apartment to me. I was on the verge of tears anyway at that point and could’ve easily cried… but I didn’t. I’m choosing to believe that everything happens for a reason. If she had placed the call to me 18 hours earlier I would’ve walked away from my $400 and embraced the beautiful apartment… but she didn’t.
So I wallowed for a while. Ok… all night. I was legitimately MAD at the apartment that I was scrubbing to death. But today I’m choosing to look at my situation with fresh eyes. The bathroom is freaking adorable. The living room is really coming together. It’s going to be a while before everything looks the way I want it to… but I’m ok with that. This is my first real place alone where I’m responsible for everything. I’ve been waiting for a real home for years and I finally have it! I can finally have a pet. And a newspaper every morning. I’m even a little excited that I get to choose the type of toilet paper.
You probably think that I’m a spoiled brat for hating that things didn’t go exactly my way. I probably AM a spoiled brat! But yesterday when I was at the grocery store buying all the basics (everything from soy sauce to cake pans) I offered to bag everything myself and the cashier said no. I was a little surprised at his tone, but he continued by saying, “We have to do too many things alone in life. I’d like to help you with this.”