Now I can tell friends and strangers alike that I don’t live at home.
I have shed my stereotypical status as a post-college 20-something living with their parents.
This weekend, I moved into my own apartment.
It began Saturday morning when movers transported furniture to my apartment 15 minutes away. My boyfriend assembled a Target dresser, I unpacked a box or two, and so begins the process of settling in. (I’ll post photos later when I unpack everything, hang my pictures, and clean the apartment.)
It’s a mess right now, though when I told that to a friend on the phone Sunday night, she guessed that my cardboard was neatly stacked against a single wall (it is).
But it doesn’t matter. I have no roommates to please or get along with, so it’s my apartment and mine alone. I can clean it up when I feel like it (which will be as soon as I get home).
I feel a sense of independence that will inevitably fade when I have to pay the rent and cook my own dinner. But for now, it’s here and it’s sweet.
What did you feel like when you got your own place? If you haven’t done so yet, have you thought about it?