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enteleinI did so much, and so little this weekend.
It's now starting to hit me just how soon I need to leave the current apartment and move to the new one. My body is slightly tensed at all times, awaiting the new patterns and cycles I will go through when my entire life is transported to a new location.
There is, you know, this fear that I will move it all into the new place, and hate the new place, living there, fitting my life into this new context. This is a distinct fear. The old apartment is so beautiful to me, and so much a part of what I envisioned as my home for the next few years. So what if the rent sucked up an entire paycheck each month? I will miss the woodwork and the floors, and the copious amounts of sunshine from all the windows. I will miss the crappy lino in the kitchen in black and white checker, and I will miss the way the front bedroom always seemed like a safe haven cave, with windows to the world, with sunshine in dapple on wall, with tree branches like watercolor fingers across old mottled white-washed plaster.
I have noticed, however, that the old place is just a little too big for me - I am not using all the rooms as much as I thought I would. This is a good thing, as I am effectively losing two rooms when I move to the new place. The dining room holds the table and chairs and glassware. The living room lies dormant - blue string lights notwithstanding. That confused the rotund Harriet the cat for some time, as Scott mostly hung out in there, but once she realized I was either in the kitchen, cooking, or in my office, reading or working/goofing off on the computer, she made the adjustment. She now sits as primly as a spherical cat can upon the comfy, strangely-mauve chair I bought from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wildsoda before she headed back East.
The new apartment was worked over a bit this weekend. I liken this whole experience to working with clay, or some sort of other malleable craft object. Feeling the place warm to me, wiping away any traces of previous owners, embracing and accepting the strange quirks of the things I cannot change. Gone are the goofy-ass smiley decals from the pantry window. Gone also are swaths of cheap carpeting, tacked into place with gummy strips of carpet tape. The closet ceiling has been primed and painted a dark midnight sky blue, and about 5 bucks at Target got me a box of glow in the dark stars to place in this faux sky.
The living room and the bedroom still need to be painted, but when they do, I am going to cover that living room in a burgundy, and the bedroom will be some sort of warm beigey color. The toilet seat has been replaced, the floors are mostly swept, the random furniture and junk left behind has been moved to the back porch. I am even excited by this back porch - if I can convince the powers that be to move all the stuff out of it and away, it will be an excellent sitting place in the summer - I can envision putting a chair or two out there, plenty of plants, some candles, etc. Because the living room is smallish, the Christmas tree I've got might even go out there, if I can run a cord to light it up. I think that might look pretty cool.
I am changing my life in so many ways, it seems. I feel giddy and chaotic, like taking risks, and falling back on the things I do know about myself. I am scared of failing, and I am scared of it all turning sour, but I can't seem to be scared enough to let that stop me from trying trying trying.
It's now starting to hit me just how soon I need to leave the current apartment and move to the new one. My body is slightly tensed at all times, awaiting the new patterns and cycles I will go through when my entire life is transported to a new location.
There is, you know, this fear that I will move it all into the new place, and hate the new place, living there, fitting my life into this new context. This is a distinct fear. The old apartment is so beautiful to me, and so much a part of what I envisioned as my home for the next few years. So what if the rent sucked up an entire paycheck each month? I will miss the woodwork and the floors, and the copious amounts of sunshine from all the windows. I will miss the crappy lino in the kitchen in black and white checker, and I will miss the way the front bedroom always seemed like a safe haven cave, with windows to the world, with sunshine in dapple on wall, with tree branches like watercolor fingers across old mottled white-washed plaster.
I have noticed, however, that the old place is just a little too big for me - I am not using all the rooms as much as I thought I would. This is a good thing, as I am effectively losing two rooms when I move to the new place. The dining room holds the table and chairs and glassware. The living room lies dormant - blue string lights notwithstanding. That confused the rotund Harriet the cat for some time, as Scott mostly hung out in there, but once she realized I was either in the kitchen, cooking, or in my office, reading or working/goofing off on the computer, she made the adjustment. She now sits as primly as a spherical cat can upon the comfy, strangely-mauve chair I bought from
wildsoda before she headed back East.The new apartment was worked over a bit this weekend. I liken this whole experience to working with clay, or some sort of other malleable craft object. Feeling the place warm to me, wiping away any traces of previous owners, embracing and accepting the strange quirks of the things I cannot change. Gone are the goofy-ass smiley decals from the pantry window. Gone also are swaths of cheap carpeting, tacked into place with gummy strips of carpet tape. The closet ceiling has been primed and painted a dark midnight sky blue, and about 5 bucks at Target got me a box of glow in the dark stars to place in this faux sky.
The living room and the bedroom still need to be painted, but when they do, I am going to cover that living room in a burgundy, and the bedroom will be some sort of warm beigey color. The toilet seat has been replaced, the floors are mostly swept, the random furniture and junk left behind has been moved to the back porch. I am even excited by this back porch - if I can convince the powers that be to move all the stuff out of it and away, it will be an excellent sitting place in the summer - I can envision putting a chair or two out there, plenty of plants, some candles, etc. Because the living room is smallish, the Christmas tree I've got might even go out there, if I can run a cord to light it up. I think that might look pretty cool.
I am changing my life in so many ways, it seems. I feel giddy and chaotic, like taking risks, and falling back on the things I do know about myself. I am scared of failing, and I am scared of it all turning sour, but I can't seem to be scared enough to let that stop me from trying trying trying.
