It is 2 am. I am tired and want to go to sleep but in a few minutes I will continue the process of packing. I am moving in to a house tomorrow on another street in a different part of town. I will have female roommates. It will be an amazing yet trying experience. I am not accustomed to living with other females (excluding my dog, of course).
The house that we rented is old; a little teal bungalow with white trim and a flower bed. I am assuming that it was originally intended to be a family house some fifty-plus years ago when it was built but according to today's standards there would be no room for a family. It is perfect for three, rather poor, twenty-something women. Perfect may be an overstatement. It will suffice though and I am excited about it.
I grew up in an older home; a ranch-style house built in the early 50s. There was a barn in the backyard (used as a shed) and real wood floors. When I moved into my first apartment I was excited to have a dishwasher. As time has gone by and I have continued living in apartments, I have come to realize that I would gladly trade this fake, white walled, beige carpeted, cookie cutter world for an old home with settlement cracks and painted shut windows.
When one enters an apartment for the first time after signing a lease there is new carpet, new paint, there is no sign of people or the lives they attempted to live in this space. It is just a generic box to store stuff and sleep. Rent is too high, neighbors are too loud and a contract has been signed that says you will not and can not leave your mark on this temporary world. Twelve months go bye and done. Move out. Re-carpeted, re-painted, re-rented. You might as well have never stepped foot in that space because it will not be remembered.
Yuck.
I am excited about this house.
:)
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