Not Martha yet, but...baby steps, baby steps

So not to jinx it, but I think I've become a neat person.

Even though I've been trending this way for a few years now - really since graduation - it still kind of shocks me to realize this. But yesterday evening as I tidied away a camera, a camera cord, a box of crayons and a coloring book because they were "cluttering up" my living room, it hit me that I've been regular and persistent about keeping my living space very tidy for four straight months now. It's beyond habit - it's just how I've become. If my house is not clean, I can't deal.

Now, this is not to say I'm a clean freak. With my cats and my schedule, that is still unattainable. But I feel I now can honestly say I Live Like a Grown-Up. I don't think everyone has "cleans house regularly and does not tolerate clutter" as a large part of that designation, nor do I think everyone should. But I grew up in a messy (and admittedly comfortable and much-loved) house, and even though I was the laziest and worst child ever at helping with cleaning it, it did leave a mark on me in some way. I think because I felt guilty about not cleaning I've made the act part of my definition of responsibility - if I'm responsible for myself and doing it well, my house should be clean.

We'll see how this goes when school starts. But I'm optimistic. It makes me feel good, damn it, to clean everything and then enjoy my nice apartment. And I love where I live, so that helps too.

Will I next conquer my incredible inability to remain organized? Stay tuned...

Movin' On Up...

So the vacation of 1135 is in full swing now, and while it's just as annoying a task as ever, I've reached the point where I'm not really stressed about it anymore. 90% of my stuff is packed, I can see I have enough boxes, half Andy's books are moved to his new place...basically the way ahead is pretty clear, and I feel confident we'll finish in plenty of time. (Well - that we'll finish in time. Plenty might be pushing it.)

Now the only thing really dragging on me is Saturday. Up at 7:30 to pick up truck, having to drive and park a 16' truck on Madison's tiny streets, moving Renee out and in, moving anything left of Andy's out and in, moving the few things of Gwen's left out and wherever, moving my stuff out, finding a place to stash the truck overnight, finishing the (likely significant) cleaning remaining over here, and getting to sleep in time to not wake up a half-dead shell of a person so that I can finish this horrible process by moving in to the new place. Also - moving Polo. Bah. (Though Virginia is awesome and has offered me use of her second bedroom to house them for the night, bless her.)

I had my big Sad Moment about the move when I got home last night...walking in to this torn-apart chaos storm and realizing that no, I don't really live here anymore. I had a great, great year in this apartment. I loved it, put so much work into it with Andy, loved being here so much I basically became a shut-in, brought the cats home here for the first time, threw my first surprise party, had my first custom curtains made up for it...I loved it, and I'm sad to go. The new place is going to be great, no doubt, but it's not home yet, and this was. It's definitely not all bitter though - living here showed me I can in fact live like a (quasi-)adult, and hammered home even further how much happier I am when I live somewhere I like.

So onward - to a new neighborhood, new roommate, new place. Without the memories, it's true...but with amenities I thought I'd only see after tenure, the Weary and loads of awesome people just around the corner, and with all sorts of new decorating possibilities.

It's time.