A New Home

Well, after weeks of looking (and looking… and looking… and looking…) we finally found a house.  We put a deposit down on it and move in two weeks.

I am excited about this for several reasons, not least of which is the realization that I will be able to get all of my stuff (furniture, antiques, books, etc.) out of storage and have them accessible for me again.  But the place is also obscenely close to work and I’ll be able to get home every afternoon before it gets dark out, no matter what the season will be.

This whole moving into a new place together thing, though, is also really quite terrifying.

You see, I have only ever done this one other time in my life… and it ended in an abusive marriage followed by a rather surprisingly civil divorce. The other attempts at this have failed before they ever even got off the ground.  But this time, with the deposit paid, rooms selected, new furniture purchased, lease signed, there is absolutely no chance that it will fall through. I still cannot help but be terrified, paranoid, that this may not go as well as I hope that it will.

Of course, I also tell myself (when I feel this way) that I am being foolish, because the Ormsby situation is nothing like what any of the other situations have been.  I have what is, essentially, the healthiest relationship I have ever had.  We have been sharing a ridiculously small one bedroom apartment ever since I moved back up here, and aside from one or two spats here and there, we have done very well.  I tell myself, too, that the ability to spread out will make the situation improve beyond what it is already.  And it’s pretty good already.

Still, we are moving in two weeks, the holidays are almost here, and it feels like we have a million things to do.  On top of work and the move, there are finals to contend with.  I guess it feels like we have a million things to do because there ARE a million things to do.

Once finals are over, though, and once the move is finished, I’ll have a room to myself again – where I can read and write in perfect silence and solitude, where I can read my Tarot cards and burn my candles and incense again (a practice I have not done in over a year… and I miss it terribly).  I’m going to set up the guest bedroom so that it looks like the bedroom I had in Tampa… both to give my cat something familiar in her old age, and also to give myself something familiar to look at on the days when I get homesick.  But we’ll have so much more than that – a working fireplace.  A bigger kitchen (bigger than any other kitchen I’ve had since my divorce).  A deck for cookouts in the summer.  Possibly a porch swing on the front porch.  And plans… so many plans for the future that I cannot help but feel optimistic for the first time in a long time.

I can see nothing but hard work in my immediate future, but that’s expected when you move.  Once it is complete, though, life will get significantly easier.  And less frustrating.  And I can’t wait.

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