Let's just say that I didn't take to dorm living all that well last year.
Reason uno: It was on the south side of campus, and all my classes were far away.
Reason dos: It was on the third floor
Reason tres: I was away from my beloved cocker spaniel Toby
Reason quatro: I had the roommate from HELL.
You don't know how much I want to give out her whole name and hometown and any other personal information I know about her, but I'm the better person. Last October, I moved across campus and had a dorm on the first floor, and an awesome roomie. But still, dorm life was not for me. So as soon as the housing fair came around, I began looking for my own place.
I chose the apartment myself.
It's a cute little complex, right by a bus stop that goes straight to campus. There's a fully-stocked fish pond (if I ever wanted to go fishing), a workout room (weight loss, here I come!) and a pool. The apartment itself has lots of windows, to let the light in, and a little fireplace, a kitchen and two bedrooms, for when my sister comes to live with me next year. Walk-in closets, a little bitty back porch... It's perfect. All it needs is someone to live in it.
The movers are coming tonight at 7:30. They were originally coming at 2, but there was a mix-up at the U-haul place, and we can't get our trailer until 7.
The sofa and loveseat are going. The Ikea unassembled beds in the garage are going. The mountains of boxes scattered around the house are going. But I still need to pack a lot of stuff. I need to pack the rest of my clothes, my books (oh crap, I still need to order my textbooks), my various toiletries, any knick-knacks I wish to bring. I need to pack Toby's toys, his leash, his bowl, his food, and probably whatever monthly meds he has to take. I need to pack my shoes, the Ps2 (and possibly the Ps3 and Rock Band), my Dvds, and worst of all, I have to look through the ENTIRE house to make sure I have everything.
I hate packing. Even if it's for an overnight stay at a friend's house. I always feel like I'm forgetting something. And this time, I can't ask Mom to come over and bring it to me. Because my new home is a good three hours away from my old one.
That's what this blog is about. I will try to write every day, whether it's a few sentences or a mini-novel, about the trials and tribulations of living alone for the first time. I don't know what the entries will be about. If something major happens, like the toilet exploding or something, I'll let you know. If nothing happens, you might just be forced to listen to my trying day as a college student, or the latest thing Toby ate on accident. Who knows?
I'm excited about my own place. But at the same time... I'm kind of scared.
