End of an Era

Well, it's the end of a period, at least. I'm moving out of my apartment.

It seems silly, really -- to be so sentimental. Yet, I've lived in this apartment for over three years. A lot of happy memories and fun and frustrations and growing pains have taken place within these rooms. And the parties. Oh, the parties! I've had some great times here. And great roommates.



Perhaps it's understandable, then, that when I got home from work today, I piddled around these 1,200 square feet not quite knowing where to start. I meandered from room to room, trying to focus on packing things into boxes instead of the fact that I really didn't want to leave this place.

Finally, I decided drastic times called for drastic measures. I packed the KitchenAid. I carefully put it back into the box from which it came, complete with Styrofoam. (Yes, I try to keep all original packaging, if I can. I am not my mother's daughter, in that regard.) And with that, my heart, um . . . moved on. I decided I could do this. I didn't want to, but I could. Still, the only way to make it okay was to take all the cookie cutters with the KitchenAid to my new place. At least KitchenAid and cookie cutters would be okay together, and if they could be okay, I could, too.

And somehow -- somehow -- that reasoning worked. (Yes, I need to stop being so attached to things. For the record, though, I am much more attached to people.)

I'll miss you, apartment. :(

Thing I'm thankful for: a great three-year run in this place. I was safe, I was happy, and I was home.