I have no literary insight for the day but I have an apartment! And it's pretty nice. Tiny but nice.
This past Saturday I started physically apartment hunting. My father and I drove over to Kalamazoo to do the physical leg work. These are the moments I'm glad I'm going across state and not across country. (Although Tanya seems to have had luck so far - which is fabulous because I'd be a nervous wreck if I was trying to rent in NH right now.)
The night before we went I was on the computer showing my father the listing that I had made arrangements to see (I was hoping just to show up and scout the others because they were larger complexes) when my father's girlfriend rang the doorbell. [We don't like her.] And she gave me the name of some property that I then had to look up while she stood in the kitchen with me and it's WAAAAY out of my price range. Seriously, what kind of college student lives there? But supposedly her hair dresser's son had lived there several years ago when he was a student. Hmm. Sure. Whatever. For the price of a one bedroom I could have a two all to myself and be a helluva lot closer to campus.
But I digress...
What really got to me was when she stated how exciting this all was. Which I thoroughly have to disagree with. It's stressful and time consuming. It's work. And once I make a decision there's more work. Calls-to-utility-people work. Packing-logic-and-logistics work. Physical-moving-and-lifting work. Then there's living with my decision and hoping it's a good one.
It's not exciting. It's work.
This is new for me. I've been a strictly dorm, sorority, campus housing-apartment kind of girl. That's why the parental unit is coming along for the ride. He volunteered before I even asked but that's probably a smart thing. But there were no decisions made over the weekend. There were a couple possibilities but we weren't sold on anything. Drove back over today, this time with the mother-parental unit and found something lovely.
It'll cost me a little more and it's smaller than my other choice, but I like the area and it's new construction and nice interior as well as within close walking distance of the end of campus I'll need to get to. After I sign, my father goes and asks if I'm planning on walking back from my night classes as well as the day and all I could do was blink. Obviously I'm planning on that. It's a ten minute walk (which, depending on the day is about the same to get to the farthest parking lot), swarming with students and if I could do it in down town Chicago I can do it in the generic frickin Midwest. If he's concerned I can get some pepper spray to go with my don't-fuck-with-me stare. I'm good at that stare. I even had a self-defense instructor tell me so.
So I've gone and signed my first real lease. Strange. I have friends with mortgages, friend's who are married, friends with kids, and here I am just now signing my first lease with a non-university.
One more step closer to my MFA.
I'm wondering if this whole "taking steps" thing is less of a walk or a journey and more of a dance. That would account for the whole two steps forward one step back feeling that you get sometimes. And the twirling. Damn, there's a lot of twirling.
