Moving jitters
It’s only three more weeks before the rental agreement of my apartment is over. Three more weeks to get all my stuff out and back into my parents’ attic. Three more weeks before I’m one step closer to my big adventure.
Three and a half years ago, I moved into this apartment. It was my first real apartment. I’d lived in several dorms and even lived on my own in America for a few months, but those were always rooms that weren’t really my own. This apartment was really for me. It even had a separate bedroom, just like for real adults!
Back then, I was able to move all my stuff in just one weekend. With a little help from my friends, of course. Just two days of hard work and it was done. I can truthfully say that this will not be the case this time. In fact, I’ve been moving for the past few weeks and I am nowhere near done. How did I get so much stuff?!
I have a pretty small apartment. Just one bedroom and not a lot of storage, but still it seems I have been able to accumulate a lot of things. The books are the worst. I’m not a very strong person, and books can weigh a lot. I have to go down two stairs here, and then up another two stairs back at my parents’ house. It’s tempting to take big boxes and fill them to the brim because that’s the only way you can see any progress, but I can promise you you’ll regret it the second you have to haul that heavy box up a tiny attic staircase.
I’m about 3/4 done right now, so it’s nearing the end. I’ve also saved the “good” books for last. There’s something strangely nostalgic to packing away all my favorite books. Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, Jane Austen, and Game of Thrones, they all hold so many memories. When I pick up those books, I get transported back to when I first read them. I pride myself on not being too materialistic, but these books hold a special place in my heart. I cherish the moment of picking them up one last time and putting them away in a box, or at least when my arms aren’t sore from moving other heavy stuff.
Because there is a lot of heavy stuff. A lot of books also mean a lot of bookcases. And let’s not forget the dozens of plant pots I’ve collected over the years thanks to my plant obsession.
While I seem to mostly complain here, I am truly enjoying the process. Taking action get’s me one step closer to achieving the dream. I love checking off the boxes on my to-do lists. I love seeing my apartment getting emptier each time. I even enjoy decorating my old room again, even though 4 years ago, I couldn’t wait to be gone from that room.
That’s not to say that I don’t have doubts. Of course, doubts enter my mind every once in a while, and they’ll probably get worse in the coming weeks. Why am I giving up my perfectly fine apartment to go live with my parents again? Why did I have to quit my comfortable, stable job to become a freelancer? What if COVID get’s so much worse and I can’t leave and I’m stuck with my parents for who knows how long? Do I have enough savings in case I hit a dry spell with my freelancing jobs?
