Today is the first day of my vacation. I have been counting down to this week off for a long time. A very long time:
This is how adorable my boyfriend is – because it’s the summer and I have no DVR to catch up on, he surprised me with a Happy Vacation present: Daria on DVD! If I have to explain to you why this is awesome, then I don’t know what you’re doing here.
In addition to one countdown being over, I also ended another one unexpectedly. My roommate/landlord and I have been arguing a lot lately, my attic-attached room is now sweltering instead of freezing, and I still haven’t really adjusted to living with a couple (something I was basically tricked into).
During an argument today over fixing the AC, he angrily retorted, “Well, you’re under no contract, so you’re welcome to move if you’re not happy.” He said this three times. And then I thought, you know what? I’m not happy. I haven’t been happy here for a while. And I can move.
Justin still won’t be done with his film for 157 days or so (not that I’m counting or anything), so there’s no room for my bed or clothes until at least September. But I can move all my dishes, books, and my Grandpa’s rolltop desk – basically, all the things I wouldn’t want to move three times in one year.
I had been kicking around the idea of moving back in with my parents for a while to help my mom with my dad and all of the medical bills, as well as yardwork, renovating the house, cleaning out the basement, selling his replicas, etc.
I opted against this a few months ago (I just feel like I’m nicer to my mom when I live far away?) and have felt a little guilty about it ever since. But today, all signs told me it was the right thing to do. And I mean, I’m going to have to do most of those chores any way, and where would I find the time if I didn’t live there? Plus, if I sell/fix/weed/mow enough stuff, my mom is only going to charge half the rent I’m paying now. FACE.
Plus, I love projects! I love having stuff to do! After pulling words out of thin air all day, I get such a thrill from a tangible, physical project and that sense of accomplishment when I’m done. I’m ready to attack that yard and that basement instead of worrying about it. I’m ready to work out all my aggression and stress on lifting and pulling and scrubbing instead of eating and laying around. I want endorphins AND the clear mind that comes from a clear space.
I’ve been really sad about my parents moving someday; maybe cleaning out my basement and *gasp* throwing away my stuffed animals *sob* will help me find some closure and move on.
OH! And I don’t plan on hooking up the cable in the basement WHAAAT.
I don’t plan on packing or moving much during my week off; I earned the right to do nothing (besides watch Daria) and I’m going to use it. But I was already planning to throw away/recycle/donate tons of stuff this week… now, I’ll just be more discriminating about it.
So yeah, I’ve loved living with Jason but it’s one thing to share an apartment and another to live in his house. And I was kind of forced into living with an engaged couple; it’s a really strange dynamic and I don’t recommend it for anyone, no matter how great the couple. It’s always going to feel like people are ganging up on you, no matter what they’re doing.
May was supposed to be all about being more concerned with other people. And while most days are a failure (at least in that goal of avoiding saying “I” and “Me”), perhaps I can rectify it by making a serious commitment to help my parents as much as possible for the next four months. That way, May feels like at least somewhat of a success.
However: it may be considered selfish, because I hate summer and heat and humidity with a passion and I would love nothing more than to spend the entire season breathing freon, underground.