A discovery of self

     Confession time: I've never been the neatest person.Trust me, I've felt nothing but shame over it, but I just felt there was nothing I could do to change it, no matter how hard I tried. Even living with roommates who helped share the load of housework, nothing seemed to be enough.
     Now, I live alone and guess what! While the apartment isn't ready for magazine covers, it's a far cry from the messes I've lived in for the last ten years. I've spent the last month trying to budget enough money to replace cleaning supplies and make sure everything has a proper space, rather than in piles of "I'll get to it later." I even found myself cleaning the toilet, not because it was especially disgusting, but because it has been a month and I wanted to stay ahead of stuff.
     I'm just happy to see that it really hasn't been my fault for all this time!

Home at WTF

     It's been a while since I was able to post on here. Much has happened, and I'll have to find my list of things to talk about before I can remember everything I wanted to say. But I have moved into the new house, and the unpacking is happening, slowly but surely...
     I have wanted to have a house for so long. It's been years since I decided I was tired of apartment living, but I couldn't afford to rent a house on my own, and being the sole income... Well, it just wasn't going to happen. But now that I have roommates, things are different. I am still living with Roomie C, but the rest of the roomies are new. Joe will be staying with us till the end of this month, then it will only be residents of WTF (use your imagination). We all have such plans for making this a comfy, cozy home for all of us. We have been discussing decorating and household rules for the last week. I still don't know how things are going to work out, but I have high hopes.
     As excited as I am about moving into my new home, this move was very stressful for me. I spent two weeks trying to get everything packed, but Roomie C had trouble remembering to bring home enough boxes. And even though I started packing early, the boys waited till the last minute, and didn't want to help me. By that point, they were worried about being able to pack their own stuff. Then, I stayed up all night/day on Wednesday helping the new roommates move in. By Thursday, I was exhausted, and emotionally drained. I quit. I told the buys that if they didn't pack up the kitchen, I was leaving it all behind. I cried all day Thursday, and half of Friday. At least, I wasn't an emotional wreck by Saturday. At that point, my body was giving out on me. I could barely walk, my feet and legs were so swollen that I was losing feeling in my toes. I was ecstatic to be able to sleep in my own bed again, instead of on the floor or someone else's bed. Being able to elevate my feet has helped so much. I can walk again and am starting to carry my boxes upstairs to my bedroom. I can't wait to get my dresser up there, next, so that I can unpack my clothes into it.
     Oh well... I shoudl go out to wait for my lunch to arrive, then get back to trying to figure out where everything should go! I'll post more soon-ish!

Stuck in neutral

     It has been hard to motivate myself to blog for the past few days... Probably because nothing interesting has really been happening in my life. Don't get me wrong, I have been getting up and going to work every day. I am trying to eat healthier and almost succeeding at that.

    In the last week, I have only gone out to eat once. And that was this past Friday. Roomie P took me out to cheer me up after we got screwed over again by Roomie C. I'm at a loss for how to deal with him.

     I seem to have hit a wall when it comes to working on my Midsummer Night Shawl. I've completed 28 of 30 pattern repeats. All I need to do is spend one more week working on it full-time, and I'll be done with it! Then I can get the black yarn and fringe the edges and be finished with the first project I'm actually making for myself. But, for the last few days, I look at my yarn and all I can think is, "I don't want to deal with you." So I don't. As much as I want to get this finished in time for Anthrocon, I have no desire to let knitting become a chore for me.

     Roomie P and I are starting to look for housing options for when this lease is up. It's early yet, but I don't have a feel for the local housing market like I did ten years ago. It's hard, wanting something nice like what we have, but knowing this is only affordable because five people are splitting the bills, rather than two. It doesn't help that we are severely limited in our options due to a lack of transportation. Needing to live in walking distance of a grocery store, and making sure we have reliable bus transportation are becoming more and more difficult to accomplish within our budget. I wish I could stumble onto something as perfect for me as the place I found for Blaze and me when we got married. 

     *sigh* Oh well. It's almost 9am on a Sunday. I suppose I ought to go take care of the daily necessities before I have to go to bed in a few hours. I can't wait till I have a vacation...

I am homeless

      Not literally! I want to clear that up right away. I have a roof over my head and a place to sleep everyday, clean clothes to wear and enough food to eat everyday. I pay rent and utilities. But this place is just an apartment. And I want to go home. To that place where everything in there is yours. A safe, warm, welcoming haven from the big, bad outside world.

     I grew up with divorced parents. When I was young, I had two homes. When I was 20, I moved out on my own. That became home. For several years, I moved from place to place, and each place I lived was home, even if only for a short time. I was moving forward in my life and everything was a step toward some unknown goal. It's funny, but after a few years on my own, my parents' houses were no longer my home. I felt like a guest. I felt I could no longer just walk in whenever I wanted and just make myself comfortable.

     I accepted this, and kept moving forward. I met a man and got married. We made our own home. It was cozy and warm and wonderful. Right up until the relationship went sour. It became a place I dreaded. It had been violated. My home was no longer cozy and safe. But it was still my home! I kept going back every day, and hoping that things would get better again.

     Unfortunately, the time came to leave. I took what I could, and moved in with some very good friends. The place where I live now is very nice. It is filled with laughter and love. But it is not a home. It's a very nice hotel, but it's just a stop along the way.

     I don't like this idea of floating about without an anchor. That cozy, safe haven is the place where we can return and withdraw, to heal our hearts and minds. So, yeah. This is what I'm missing. And I can't wait to find my next home.