In 2011 I accepted my first big girl job and moved to Oklahoma. I packed my car with all my belongings and trekked north. I pulled up to my new apartment (which I was going to be paying for ALL BY MYSELF) and unpacked my car.
Here's a picture of me in a box on move-in day, January 12, 2011.
Three days later, my parents arrived with a U-Haul truck full of hand-me-down furniture we had bought off a family friend for pennies. It wasn't my style, but it was there, so I sat on it.
The next day I bought a bed.
Cue panic attack.
I hadn't thought about the furniture. The big stuff. The stuff that my friends had to move in for me 'cause I couldn't do it myself. The stuff that makes life feel more permanent. I owned it. I knew The Next Time I moved would be intense. Like, Big Girl intense.
Fast forward two and a half years and The Time arrived. I accepted a new job in a different state.
This Time, I was ready. I didn't even think twice about moving all my crap. I hired some professionals, let them pack the truck, and moseyed my way down the highway. Pulling up in front of my new apartment, I didn't feel any anxiety. Nothing that made me feel like this was a Big Step.
Hunky men doing work for me, June 16, 2013.
I added a washer and a dryer to my stash of furniture, and it didn't phase me.
I'm A Big Kid Now.
