Moving Day

All of my positivity seems to have worked! Last night I went and looked at an apartment. It's the bottom floor of a family home, one-bedroom, furnished, with my own entrance. There's no stove, but who am I kidding, cooking is not something I do often. It does come equipped with a full fridge, microwave, toaster oven, and hot plate. Perfect for me. Three comfy couches, a dining table, and a BED! I haven't slept on a real mattress a single night I've been living in the city. It's been air mattresses, camping pads, a couch, and--for one uncomfortable night--just the floor. I am definitely most excited about the bed. I swear I'm a full-grown adult, but this will also be the first non-twin bed I have of my own. 

Everything moved pretty quickly last night. After the almost 2 weeks of searching and contacting people and constantly being on Craigslist, it was nice to have such a quick turn around. I checked the place out, met the family I'm renting from, and within an hour they called me, told me I had great credit (that's a relief), and would love to have me move in as soon as I wanted. Which is today. Yay! 

I honestly feel like things are falling into place. Rent includes everything, including wifi. It's a month-to-month lease, so if I do need to leave sooner rather than later I can. The house is in walking distance of bars, restaurants, a Safeway, and a park. (Only downfall is that Forza will no longer be within walking distance, boo.) There's a Boys and Girls club across the street. Once I'm settled in, I'll be stopping by there to see if they are hiring, or at least looking for volunteers. The family is actually looking for a nanny for their youngest son. I know I said I didn't want to be a nanny again, but it might work out nicely to just nanny in my own home, at least while job searching. I haven't mentioned it to them yet though. Didn't really want to admit that one of my jobs would be ending shortly. Doesn't really reflect well on the whole being able to pay rent thing. Things just seem to be lining up nicely right now. But, I'm not getting my hopes up. First step: find an apartment. Success! Second step: Find a job. Work in progress. 

Life with a roommate

Roommate shots on the first night we both lived together. 

It's been a while since I was friends with one of my roommates. (Boyfriend and parents don't count.) Katie and I moved into a temporary place after camp ended and are living together at least until the end of October. And it's been fun. I forgot how it can be fun living with someone. (Again, boyfriend and parents don't count. Just assume that fact from here on out in this post. Kay, thanks.) 

Back in college, I lived with some of my closest friends for three years. Sometimes, those closest friends would change, and sometimes I wouldn't be friends with everyone I lived with, but I always had some good friends who I shared a living space with. It was a lot of fun. We watched ridiculous TV or movies, had art time, talked about random things, talked about serious things, enjoyed some beverages, and probably/definitely annoyed our roommates who we weren't good friends with. It was so nice after a stressful class or a long day student teaching to come home and actually feel like I was coming home. "How was your day?" "Should we order wings for dinner again?" "Can we please talk about what happened at the party last night!" "I've been waiting all day for you to watch Hot Rod  (for the fifth time this week.)" 

I guess I can't complain about having bad living experiences since then. Besides my parents and boyfriend (who, as I said, don't count) I've only lived with one other group of people since college. I found them on Craigslist, and it was an... okay time. I lived with three other girls, and three dogs. Besides the passive aggressive notes made from magnets on the fridge; late night parties when I had to work early the next morning; dog crap on the carpet or the stairs and therefore inevitably on my shoe, sock, or (blech) bare foot; inability to leave my door open even if I was going downstairs just to check the mail because a dog would eat out the crotch of any clothes I might have left on the floor (including my pajamas); dishes that piled up in the sink that were never mine since I rarely ate in the apartment; and sex from next door that would wake me up at random hours of the night (don't get me wrong, good for her for getting some but when your bed frame is right against my wall and you're so drunk you can't even fathom the definition of the word decency, it's a little much), living there wasn't so bad. Sometimes we would go to the bars together, or watch an episode of Grey's Anatomy. Occasionally we might even have an actual conversation. When the lease ended in May though, I was quick to move out. No hanging around for some long drawn out false goodbyes and good lucks on future life for me. 

I had a good time living with my parents after college. It was nice being an adult sharing a space with them. Able to have more conversations, and fewer rules. I feel like I was pretty responsible and generally considerate living there, although I did wake up my dog and therefore my dad on more than one occasion when I was dropped off in the wee hours of the morning after a night out (sorry dad!). So things worked out, but when I moved out I'm pretty sure we were all ready for me to go. 

Hurricane Sandy hit the East Coast

Before moving out west, I lived with my boyfriend for about 8 months. It was also a pretty good time. I got to live with my best friend, so what could be wrong with that? Unfortunately, our apartment was small, our working hours were often opposite hours, I was constantly stressed about finances or the future, and our apartment was small. Yes, I did mean to write that twice. I'm the type of person who really needs her personal space. Living with a significant other greatly decreases that personal space, especially in a small apartment. When I needed some time to myself, there was nowhere to go. Which, as you should be able to tell, caused a few problems. Overall though, it was great. We had shows we watched together, cooked dinner, played cards, went to the beach to experience being in a winter storm, and so on and so forth. But, before we live together again, we need to make sure the place is big enough for him, me, and my personal space. And a dog. 

So now I live in Seattle with a roommate. And it is a blast. We worked together this summer, but never too closely so I'll admit I was a liiiiiiiittle nervous about sharing a space with someone who I hadn't lived with together before. Nervous me is gone though. Things are great. We're both at similar places right now, trying to find full time jobs and apartments in a city that is brand new to us that we really enjoy being in and don't want to return to our home states where there's the promise of places to live and jobs to do. So that works out well. We recently added a coffee table to our living room so it's now a common space we actually enjoy being in. One night we got takeout and watched Arrested Development; another we sat and talked about both random and serious topics while enjoying some beverages; last Thursday was spent drinking large bottles of alcohol (cider for her, IPAs for me) and playing the Sims 3 (on our respective computers). While we both encourage each other when it comes to the job search or thesis writing (for her), she's not my mother and I'm not hers. If I want to spend a Wednesday morning bed watching Orange is the New Black instead of going to the coffee shop and writing another cover letter like I said I would the night before, then I do it. And we can laugh about it, because chances are, she's doing the same thing. It's okay though, because later that Wednesday afternoon, we'll both be off doing productive things, just a few hours later than originally planned. We go to trivia nights, find happy hour specials, talk about actually cooking dinner instead of heating up food from the freezer, and often have similar thoughts at the same time. Plus, I'm not sick of her yet. Bonus: we both have air mattresses so if she did bring someone home from a late night out, there would be no metal bed frame banging against my wall. 

In conclusion, living with a roommate is fun again. I can't wait until I can one day afford my little studio apartment in the city with just me and my dog (clearly this isn't happening anytime soon), but until then I declare this roommate arrangement a

SuccZest!

(For all of you who did not go to camp with me this summer, sorry I'm not sorry for the lame joke.)