Moving...

...again.

And it's all too weirdly familiar.

Friend called me out of the blue this past Saturday. Knows the bombshelter. A mutual friend sharing a room at her pad doesn't use it much anymore. Lease is up August 1. Rent's cheaper here, though digital cable and utilities kinda even it out. Gotta kitchen, though, straight-on 1960s nostalgia complete with dual-oven range, but there's a full-size fridge, dishwasher, and room enough to seat 5 at the breakfast table. In fact, the whole place's palatial. I remember moving them in. I remember helping her girlfriend deliver their new bed. It's got the longest hallway I've ever seen in an apartment. On-site laundry, a luxury I've lived without since Evanston. And two dogs who have known me for six years already. I've crashed at that place. It's closer to the highway. Met up with many friends there. It comes with pre-packaged ghosts.

Last time I was invited by friends to live with them was sophomore year, college.
Last time I lived in a multi-room apartment was 5 years ago, Ukranian Village, Chicago.
Last time I lived above ground was 2 years ago, Villas at Rob Roy, Prospect Heights.

...

Where can one go but up from a bombshelter?

September 1 begins a completely different chapter for me.

...just need to keep feeding the feeling that this is the greatest gift in the world.

Although, in ways, it feels like a step back, like reverting to college life, like reverting to 20-something finding-yourself-all-over-again-ism,... hell, I liked life more during those times. And I liked myself more.

Off-street parking's a total bitch, though. :)


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Now playing: Death Cab For Cutie - Start Again