Well, the move is complete.
For the most part, anyway. I packed all my things into some boxes, stuffed my suitcase with clothes and tucked my computer back into it's box. My furniature still sits in limbo in my room, giving it a weird aura. It's almost like a hotel room, with an empty desk and shelves. Kind of symbolic that my room should look so abandoned, after living a year with the roommate from hell.
As I slid the last few boxes closer to the door, I studied the room. It's really comfortable, and I'm quite happy with it. I looked at the bed where so much has changed, the desk where my computer sat, the silver clock that's still an hour behind, never reset for Daylight Savings...what should I be feeling?
There was a mixture of sadness and regret, but I was surprised to find a part of me that didn't really care. There was a total of one night that I lay in bed and thought to myself finally, "This is my room! I live here!" Nearly every other day I felt like a (mistreated) guest in my own home. And I'm not going to miss that.
Strangely enough, my dear roommate was there when I started moving boxes out the door. What was strage, she never took the opportunity to make a grand enterance, or criticize, or do much of anything. It was almost a let-down, since I had prepared myself for her to make some comments about my departure.
After what felt like hours, everything was finally in the car and we were on our way. The same ritual was praticed once we arrived, unpacking the car, trip after trip through doors and up stairs, until finally my room was overflowing with boxes. I then started the tedious task of unpacking...something I'm still working on.
Observations after being here for less than 24 hours:
-my room at home is the same size as my apartment room, yet nothing fits anywhere
-my furniature has no space for clothes/little shelf space
-my closet is microscopically small
-our taps drip and don't exactly work properly
-there is no space for me; no room for my coats, no room in the bathroom for my stuff, no space in the kitchen for my coffee maker
-my mother will drive me insane, after having a room that was utterly my space, she walked in and out of it about 100 times. She also has a tendancy to 'find things' 'innocently', eg. porn. So privacy=0 at the moment...and it's going to be interesting to figure out what to do with that box of porn and sex toys...
-there are people here who love me, and I feel welcome in my own home again
1 comment:
It's a totally new experience when you move back home after having your own place. The whole "no room in the bathroom" bit was probably the most frustrating for me, though the lack of privacy was the hardest to deal with.
ap
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