Cat Landing

For those of you keeping score, I’ve found a new apartment. It’s about a mile south of my current home, in my previous neighborhood. It’ll be nice to get back there, since that area is closer to my usual haunts. But it won’t be this place.

Nine years, two months. Four jobs. Countless shift rotations and neighbors. The longest I’ve ever lived anywhere in my life. Watching the slow march of time take its toll on nearby businesses that shuttered after decades of service. Dark windows and empty parking lots, and now the land is cheap enough for vultures.

It’s a long time to rent a place and call it home. This apartment, for most of that time, was just a closet where I stashed my shit while I was out and about. But with the COVID-19 lockdown, I finally made it home, because I had no other choice.

But now I have no choice but to leave.

It has taken me a long time to adjust to this place, and learn the patterns and schedules of my neighbors and how to deal with their quirks (and they mine). We finally got into a groove.

But now I have to relearn. That’s the hardest part. The new place is certainly shaped weird, which I kinda like because it’s unique. But how are the neighbors? Will I hear bumps and rumbles from overgrown speakers powered by overgrown egos? Will I have to deal with unassigned parking where everybody has their unassigned spot, and don’t you dare take it? Can I grapple with the idea that I will be the freshman tenant that everybody sneers at while I figure out where I fit? Can I deal with a new place where no windows face the sunlight? Should I invest my energy into making it a home beyond the lease term?

See, I don’t know the future. I won’t really know until I move and start settling in. It’ll be a long adjustment, a shellshock-inducing event. I already feel numb, which I take as a kindness from the uncaring universe. My hope is that it’ll be good, at least in the greater context of me spending my life making bad choices and never investing in my own home (if ever was a time for that, it’s now, but have you seen how much real estate costs now?).

I dunno. I’m a fuckup sometimes, but I find serendipity and luck out with saving throws and generally just ride on whatever comes along, bitching the whole way. So whatever. No gods, no masters. Whatever. Nothing means anything. The bulldozers are on their way. Whatever. Fuck this apartment. Long live this apartment.

Published by Shawn

He's just this guy, you know?