Moving Is Strange
There is very little left in my apartment. My laptop and some notebooks in a backpack, a weeks worth of clothes in another bag. Everything else I own is packed away in a storage unit across town. My other three room mates have already moved into their new places, taking almost everything with them. There are unclaimed dishes in the kitchen and cleaning supplies abound.
One of my room mates and I spent most of the day cleaning the apartment. Wiping a year of dust from the blades of ceiling fans, clearing windows of handprints, applying spackle to tack holes in walls, emptying the refrigerator and bleaching the bathrooms in an attempt to reclaim some small portion of our security deposit.
In the meantime my sleep schedule has rapidly decayed, despite the regularity of my work schedule. Not having a bed makes it easier to wake and harder to fall and stay asleep. There are few things I look forward to as much as having a bed of my own again.
The details of the place I’m moving into are a bit dubious, and yet I’m intermittently insouciant and worried about the reality of me moving in on Friday. I’ve heard the place described, and I’ve seen similar studio apartments in the area, but I haven’t yet visited the place where I plan to live. While the property manager has told me it would be ready to move into by the first, one of my co-workers who lives in the same group of apartments cautions that I may not be able to move in for another week and a half. I haven’t seen any sort of lease agreement yet, so at this point there is no guarantee of my tenancy.
But I’m not really that worried. I’m calm and I feel optimistic that things will fall into place in the next three days. I hope I’m not being naive.