One Year. One Month

Thirteen months in and I'm still tickin'!  Woo-Hoo!

Thirteen months ago, I was sweating the last few details of one of the last acts (besides marriage and parenthood) of full-on adulthood; my first place!  My own place.  After 39 years of living with of others, I was going to take the plunge and live on my own with my own rules, my way, for the next twelve months or so.  Finally, I was going to be able to come and go as I please without checking in with a parental figure, the US Army, or possibly scaring the bejesus out of my unsuspecting roommates when I strolled in at say, 3 AM.  Finally, I can have the option of living like a complete neat-freak or turning my humble abode into a pig-sty.  Get up when I please or stay in bed all day?  Three piece suit?  Suit of armor?  Birthday suit?  Don't matter, all bets are off...or maybe they're on!  Haha!  I decide!  Me!  All me!  All.  Of.  It.  On me.  No one else!  Me!  Me!  Me!  Me--

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the beginning of my first initial freak out.  Before I knew it, my mouth was dry, my eyes were moist and my hands couldn't stop shaking.  It could've been the fact that a month or so before the move, I performed a major purge consisting of trips to the trash, trips to the thrift store and trips to the new place, wash, rinse, repeat.  I did this nonstop, whenever I had a free moment.  So, it is totally feasible that, between throwing out things that I hadn't touched in months but had possession of nonetheless, physical exertion and the mounting anxiety that anyone feels when attempting anything this life altering for the first time, I may have forgotten to breath.  Luckily, I have friends.  And mild logorrhea.

Several days before the move, I evinced my feelings to a friend and even though she couldn't definitively promise me that everything would be absolutely, positively, okay-dokey, A-okay, forever and ever and ever, she listened to my unfounded and insane ramblings, then offered some sound advice and that helped immensely.  Thank you, Platypus.  I owe you one.

After a few more mini freak-outs and one final purge, the day was upon me.  I, my roommates, Platypus and her man helped me move from my roommates home to, well, my home!  Took about an hour or so 'cause I didn't have too many items, so all and all, I can't complain about the move itself.  And, after the last slice of pizza was eaten, after the entertainment system was hooked up, warmed up and enjoyed, after the last of the movers had headed home and after the last piece of the last eight years of my life was moved into my apartment, I collapsed.

And smiled.

This is what bliss feels like.

Thirteen months later, the bliss is still there, but reality steps in every now and again and reminds me that being king of my empty kingdom has a price.

No, I'm not foreshadowing anything; there's a an actual price and it went up when I signed my new lease last month!  The money has been the biggest challenge; I see now that saving money is learned skill that has taken me several financially painful months to acknowledge and acclimate to.  It sucks.  But, I view it as a challenge.  I know that I want to keep this place for as long as I can and if that means tightening my belt just a bit more, then so be it!  I love my empty kingdom and have NO intention of letting it go without a fight!  Mark my words, there WILL be a "Two Year.  One Month." posting this time next year!  I can't let this go!  I'm all in and I'm in it to win it!  All systems go!  Dialed in!  Turned up to eleven!

The reason?

This is what bliss feels like.


Janna said…
Feels awesome to be the king (or queen) of one's own castle, doesn't it? Hold on to that throne.