Last week I moved out of my tiny downtown studio. I wasn’t sentimental about moving out because I moved into a roomy and cozy three-bedroom with my two closest friends from school, but as I think back on my year I realize now how much happened in my 10 months spent in that tiny room. It was in my grey and cozy room where I learned to live alone, light candles without a lighter, and cook chicken. One weekend I had four people come stay with me, and we were literally stepping on each other all weekend. My mornings usually started at 6am with hitting snooze, followed by coffee and pandora before I flew out the door and down the three flights of stairs to power walk to class. It was in that room where I went through a breakup and my first year of pt school, with lots of tears and prayers.
I spent as much time as I could on the roof– laying out, studying, eating deep dish pizza (the pizza only happened twice). I’ll miss the roof for sure.
Thank goodness my mom convinced me to use movers. And thank goodness my mom convinced me that even though I was using movers that I would still need her assistance. She was hands and knees scrubbing my bathroom floor as I made trips up and down, back and forth. My mom usually always knows best. My move went smoothly and we were all smiles at my new, huge room in my new apartment that Kali and Jen already live in. I think I can get used to not having a mini-kitchen inside my bedroom.