a goner.

I strained to reach the top shelf of my closet this morning, which is the most disorganized and frustrating area of my 600 sq. ft. apartment. I wince each time I slide open the door. There is one narrow shelf, that's, well, really narrow. So the excess of my life - the things I don't use every day - are forced, crammed, shoved in this inaccessible and poorly designed space. I QUICKLY rummaged to find my lease agreement, quickly knocked things down from the shelf in the process, and quickly shoved the door once said lease agreement was retrieved.

I needed to see what it was I signed that I would do when vacating my apartment. My lease expires the last day of February, and that's the day I end this comfortable consistent routine like life I have been enjoying the last year, and reenter the potentially nomadic existence I am more familiar with. I say potentially because, who knows? But I do know that I am moving out of the comfortable space I have had all to myself, and moving into a tiny basement room (for much less money), to potentially move even further away in the summer. I say potentially because, who knows? What is known is that things are changing...I also just left the job I have had for over a year for something different.

The reality of the impending change made me wince once again, as if it's been crammed on a tiny shelf high up in the air for the past year, and just tumbled down on top of me this morning.

I should start packing. I should start taking things out of the closet, and make a pile for Goodwill. I should begin taking the pictures off of my walls, the old food from my refrigerator, and patching the nail holes I have contributed to the already worn white walls. Though I claim to love change, there is also something so comforting about consistency, which is why I am not going to do any of those things just yet. Instead, I am planning a party to be held inside the picture covered walls. The hope is to leave one last delightful memory in the space that's been my sanctuary, instead of leaving it before I am even gone.