Moving residences has to be one of the most annoying parts of life but most fulfilling.
Everything is boxed or strewn across a Uhaul. The unknowns abound: will my couch fit in the elevator? What about my front door? Will my neighbors be drug dealers or senior citizens (or both? Is this where I fall in love or get repeatedly robbed?
After two years, I’m moving from my post-college apartment. Even if you’re moving out of a decrepit $500 apartment, it really grows on you— the barely-working elevators, the loud, clumsily-formed fight club that wakes you up Friday mornings, and the gorgeous sunset balcony views, trail access, and friendly staff.
I pitched and landed a book publishing deal, wrote most of it, and survived a whole ass pandemic in this apartment.
One way to gauge lifestyle improvement is by comparing by residential moves. In two years, I’ve gained 30 pounds (muscle, thankfully), wrote nearly 3,000 articles, and a book— over two million words total.
Moving is a pathway to radical change. You’re a mystery— what will be your vibes? Do you shop at Aldi or Meijer? How much money do you spend? Will you invest in yourself? It’s a chance to start anew.
Here’s to the end of an era, the times had and the friends made. I can’t wait for what’s next.