Monday, July 8, 2013

"You may all go to hell, and I will go to Texas."

Alternative title: "On Being a Big Girl and Moving Like an Adult."

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.

1 comment:

  1. Dude, hunky is right. Hubba hubba! Jk. Don't tell Jordan I said that. Also, I still hate you for moving, even if I do wish you the best.