Packing up paradise


I’ve been cleaning out the house all morning. How I am going to move in just a couple of weeks is beyond me.

I’ve found all kinds of cool stuff though. I save everything. I mean, now that I know I can photograph my memorabilia, I’ll be pitching more stuff. I just wish I could pitch enough to not need a storage unit.

The new apartment is so clean and compact, I told mom we aren’t taking anything with us. She’s decided I’ve picked the worst apartment ever and that she just needs to leave this earth and leave me to live my life the way I see fit.

Yes, *drama.*

I was telling a friend about this back-and-forth and finally sent my friend the real estate listing. And he was like, THAT is what she’s complaining about?! And I felt better.

Don’t get me wrong. We have plenty of trade-offs that make the current place seem like a better choice. But that’s the thing. Staying here isn’t the right move, even though she seems to suddenly think it is.

I didn’t hit all the “wish list” items, but I got us a water view and modern appliances — our must-haves. Yeah we don’t need the basketball court or three pools.

And moving is is going to be a nightmare because of the teeny tiny loading area.

And it costs the same.

But …

It’s NEW and it’s convenient and it is a nice private owner instead of a fly-by-night rental company. Basically he said if it’s broken, I’ll fix it, but it’s brand-new and it shouldn’t break for a long time.

And this, I think, is the real value.

I hope she comes to feel healthier with cleaner air and certainly cleaner water. Kadie too.

She says I did this move for me. I did it for us. For them. For a goddamned year, for Christ’s sake. I didn’t buy the damn place. I hope to stay two years to justify the cost.

And I hope that this doesn’t destroy what little sense of adventure I have left in me.

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