I now live in a one-bedroom upstairs apartment. Honestly, it is like putting a gallon of barbecue in a pint size container.
I have traveled back and forth picking up countless boxes, totes and bookshelves for months now.
I think I could drive the route from Mount Olive to Roanoke Rapids with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back.
When I started these trips, there were two rooms full of stuff at my friend Mark’s house. Now there is only half a room full of boxes and a little bit of furniture.
In traveling back and forth, I have learned a few things.
One, I don’t see myself moving anytime in the near future. Once your friends help you to get a couch and a bed upstairs, they are not so eager to help you get it back down.
Two, I have started giving heavy consideration to becoming a minimalist in owning possessions. Personally, this will never happen but it is a nice thought. I have enough books and magazines that I could open a satellite branch of the library in my apartment.
And finally, I have learned there is very big difference between the place where you sleep and the place that you call home.
You know that feeling after you’ve been on vacation or after a long day when you walk through your front door and let out a little sigh of contentment?
After a long day of being Lois Lane, it is so nice to unlock my door and see the steps that lead up to my fortress of solitude.
When I saw my apartment without furniture, books or anything in it, I felt it. For the first time years, I felt like I was home.
And it will be even more home when the bed arrives! I promise to post pictures when the apartment is a little more photo ready!