Since my dog passed away last week, I've been looking at my apartment that I often call my cave. I've been in the same complex since September of 2004, and suddenly after feeling quite content for sometime, I find that I am in a mood for change. I will admit that my apartment holds memories of good and bad. By the front door is where my ex-fiance once stood over five years ago. I can still see him with his mesmerizing blue eyes and baseball cap he always wore to cover up his bald spot. He still has that silly sexy grin on his face.
On my couch, I see my son and his ex-wife before when they were happy. I also see him sad and abandoned three months later making poor choices on the rebound. Last time I hugged him by the kitchen was November of 2008. By the front door on the hard tile floor still lays Ruby, content, beautiful, and gracing my life with her presence. In my bedroom is the tiny corner I have my computer shoved up next to the wall and wedged on the other side of my bed. It's here where I meet my muse, characters, and express the tears of writing three books. Hours of memories in front of a keyboard, that's for sure.
I think after six years of memories in my small apartment, it's time to move on. My lease is up October 31, and I'm seriously thinking of moving to another apartment. It's time for a change and time to leave the ghosts in my apartment behind (except for my muse, of course, who gets to come with me).
This past weekend I went apartment hunting. That was a shocker! I've been out of the market for six years and things have changed. Rents fluctuate daily just like airfares. I found one floor plan I liked a lot and found the same floor plan down the street a half mile away for $60 a month cheaper. Kind of makes no sense. I will admit, however, that I was star struck by the number of closets I saw. My current apartment of 635 square feet has one - yes, I said one - 6 foot closet in my bedroom. That's it folks! I have clothes stuffed behind my door, under my bed, and crap piled everywhere. Just the thought of 840 square feet, a walk-in closet, a hall closet, a pantry, and a linen closet, plus a second bedroom with another closet is heaven. I get giddy just thinking about it. Needless to say, I'm pretty much going to give my notice come October 1, even if I have to pay more just to get a damn closet!
Okay, so change is good. Perhaps my life is in a stagnant phase. I've been hiding in my cave with two windows far too long, and I need to literally open another door and move on. Though change can be good, it can be stressful too. When I first divorced, I moved 5 times in 18 months, and one was a major out-of-state move. No wonder I was depressed, said my doctor.
Perhaps it is good for us as singles, when we feel like we've been in one place too long, to poke ourselves out of our past and move to a new location. We can clean out the clutter, make a trip to the Goodwill, donate the things we've had in closets for years we forgot we ever had, and leave to build a life elsewhere where we can accumulate more junk. Who knows, it could cheer me up! I might meet a nice man walking his dog in the new apartment complex and find love eight miles away from where I live now. You never know.
Off to find boxes,