Moving On

Two weeks ago, Ebbie and I decided to call it a day in terms of our relationship. It has been completely amicable and mutual. However, because we moved in together into his house nearly five years ago, it meant that I needed to go apartment hunting.

I found one, I signed the lease Thursday evening, then came home and burst into tears. It's not that I thought I'd made a mistake, necessarily, it's just that the whole thing has me a bit overwhelmed. (Of course, the sinus infection that lead me to a two-and-a-half day work week didn't help either.)

I intentionally looked for a small apartment, it is just me, and I am trying to streamline my possessions. It's a third floor apartment with a turret windowseat and french doors between the living room and kitchen. I have a photo of the turret, but it's not very good.

I haven't moved yet. I am a bad mover. When I was married, I moved six times in three years. I haven't started packing, but I have started measuring things and sorting things. I may start packing tomorrow, depending on how the antibiotics are working on my sinuses.

I'm really stressed out by the whole thing, even though I know that once I get moved and settled, everything will be fine, and I'll enjoy having my own little space again.

As a result of the series of changes over the past couple of weeks, my knitting has suffered. I still haven't finished my sister's short socks, and my jaywalker is at a complete standstill. I hope to get back on track soon, especially since putting my stash into my new living quarters will definitely qualify me for "wool house" status.

Enjoy what's left of your weekends.