Out.

All last week people were asking me how the packing was going. Well, once I finally got rid of all of the stuff that he had left behind (including pretty much every gift that either myself of my parents’ had ever given him), I was able to get a start on my own stuff. I do have a good chuckle every time I think about him wanting his weights back and having to go buy his own stuff back from Value Village.

After a whirlwind of boxes and tears and garbage bags and heart ache and mops and numbness, I am moved out of my apartment. While the month isn’t even over yet, I was asked to move out for yesterday. So Friday night, at about 10 pm, some friends I’d asked and some friends who surprised me, helped me move my world into their trunks and into the two spaces it’ll be stored in for the next two weeks.

Then yesterday, while I was at work, K and my Dad cleaned my apartment from top to bottom. I had already cleaned the bedrooms and his little room. His little room being the absolute only thing I had asked him to clean. Let me tell ya folks, nothing makes you happier that a relationship is over than cleaning his gross footprints off the walls of the only room he was supposed to clean.

Now I will spend another two weeks sleeping on the couches at my parents’ and J and M’s. 

And then, I will move into my new home.

Once the bruises and scrapes and aches have healed, I think I’ll finally be feeling some real excitement. For now, I’m just exhausted.

Also, I’m working my way towards getting a new camera, so fingers crossed there will be some colour up here soon!

Back.

After however many more nights on a cot in my parents’ tv room and a night on J’s seriously comfortable couch, I am now back in the apartment until the end of the month.

You forget how big the place is until you walk into the living room and the couch, coffee table and stuffed chair are gone. Or how spacious the bedroom is until you see it with only the mattress, the closet contents, weight bench and bedside table having moved to their new home.

On the other hand, there is a fair amount of stuff that remains – both of mine and his. Today I signed the rental agreement for my new apartment. * One of the great things is that a friend of mine from years back is the manager (or “neighbour with keys” as she prefers to call herself). I also have another friend living in the building. Right below me actually. While I’m not necessarily excited to move in yet, I am getting anxious. The total downside to this (and it happened so easily, there had to be a bump somewhere along the way) is that I can’t move in until the 13th. This means that at the end of August, I’ll move my stuff over to my parents’ garage and clean the apartment. I’ll then spend two weeks on my parents’ cot (and possibly see the upside to a chiropractor). And then I’ll move again, into the new pad.

Things I won’t miss about this place? The obvious one is all the memories. The scenes you play out in your head over and over, the good and the bad. But I also won’t miss the constantly loose taps.  Or the fridge that leaks gross rusty freezer water all over the floor. Or the odd odor that hits you as soon as you walk in after leaving all of the windows closed all day.

I will miss the view. The built in entertainment that comes with looking down upon humanity. “Watching the stupids” was one of my favorite pass times. I will actually kind of miss the slant in the floor. I figured it gave the place some character.  Of course the south facing patio has been great.

Now comes the tough part of deciding what I really want to take with me. As much as I love to be surrounded by books, I want a less cluttered home, so most of the books will go. I have this great antique folding table that – fingers crossed- my parents will store/use for a few years. I also have the dilemma of the dining room table versus hutch. I’m determined to make them both fit, but just how squished will it feel?

-mustache mash up-

For tonight, I’m going to fall asleep to yet another flick from years ago and enjoy my mattress. My brain isn’t so good at shutting off on its own these days, but I’m sure the gentle drone of ’80s pop and snapping bubble gum added with the faint aroma of kettle popcorn (wafting up from the Fringe) are sure to do the trick tonight.

*Rental agreement, not lease. I’ve never rented a place without a lease. Month-to-month: is it good? is it bad?