Where is my home? I’m almost positive if I searched my old blogs I could find a post about this same thing, but I’ll write about it again anyway.
Home, is often referred to as the place where my rump rests. While this is often true, especially with the constant bouncing of housing in the college life, I don’t know if that works so well. Tonight I am finishing moving out of the only place I have lived in for more than 9 months at a time in my entire college career. That includes my parents house, because as many of you know they moved the summer between my senior year in high school and my freshman year in college. So, this begs the question, is there a certain length of time one must dwell in a place for it to be there home. Well, I would have to answer that there is more to it than that. Whenever I come back to my parents house I feel sorta like I’m coming home, but then when I come back to school I feel that same way.
I am about to move out of the Phi Beta Nu house, also know as “the house” for short. I like this place. It is a crap-hole in almost every sense of the word, but it did the job for the last two years. I feel like I’m leaving my home. This has a lot to do with the people involved I think. I’m passing the torch, moving on, and it is time to let my few remaining undergrad friends pick up where I left off. But on top of my leaving I’m going away married with a beautiful woman by my side. So that means a lot of change is happening all at once. I’m not just moving in to some apartment with a random person I can ignore, or getting my own one bedroom that I can do whatever I want to. I’m moving in with someone I care about and have to listen to. So in attempting to make a new home, that means I’m putting this one behind me, putting my other home with my parents behind me, and closing the first book of the story of my life. No more school, no more parents paying my cell phone bill, no more free insurance, and I have to start matching my furniture because I have hit the age where I too will succumb to the IKEA nesting instinct.
I have my carpet shampooed, the blue hose has all been pulled out, all of our rooms are empty, and there is just crap left in the two front rooms. A little couch vacuuming, a little sweeping, lots of cleaning products being eaten by the fridge, and then I’m out of here, to a temporary housing in the guys new apartment until the wedding. To a place that won’t have power until Friday, internet and cable won’t be in until after I leave, and I have no idea when the water gets turned on. I’m thinking about stringing up my hammock and sleeping on the porch. I think I would be in good company on the porch because I would be sharing it with the grill.
With that, I will now finish cleaning, and think about what my new home is going to be like in the frigid north.