I know better than to complain about the times when I throw my own life into complete upheaval, but when someone or something else does it to me, I will scream from rooftops: Adele and I found out a couple of weeks ago that we have to move. We rent someone’s condo, and that someone would like to sell it, as soon as our lease is up April 30, like I mentioned in an earlier post. I feel like I just moved there — probably because I did. Less than eight months ago. Goodbye, lovely yellow room.
Readers who are paying attention know that I wasn’t planning on staying there for too much longer, but Adele and I had still planned on renewing. We were just going to cross bridges when we got to them; Now we know the next bridge in our path is in the process of collapsing.
She’s looking for a one-bedroom on her own for May 1, having now had two roommates up and move out (or announce moving out) of the state on her. I don’t blame her, poor thing. Meanwhile, I can’t sign a lease I don’t intend to sit through even half of, so I am at a crossroads once again.
It sure would be nice to only have to pay to move once in 2015, even it’s months sooner than I expected. Plans are in the works to see if that’s a possibility, but I won’t know for a few weeks yet. If it’s not, as I said before, Christina has graciously agreed to let me live with her again, and her boyfriend John. It would be a nice bookend to my time in this city, and I’d live really close to Stef’s place. Plus, I loved living with Christina — I only moved out in 2012 because Kevin asked me to move in with him. Things in Christina’s life and mine are very, very different than they were when I moved in with her Week Two of my Chicago experience, four and a half years ago, but I think we could manage to pull off having just as much fun. Chicken wings and Gilmore Girls marathons are coming back! Not a bad way to kill time between spring and July.
The more I think about my plans, the more excited I get. It is late February and it is snowing and cold, and tomorrow morning I will have to dig out my car in the dark before I can drive to work. I sleep with lights on because I am afraid and I know it is pointless to feel afraid yet I cannot convince myself to stop feeling afraid. It is not Chicago’s fault I got picked up by the wrong cab driver two winter months ago but I do keep them in reproach for not holding him responsible the way they could have. But that’s a post for another time, probably weeks from now when I am hopefully over the shock and can get a grasp on what just happened.
I love most things about my life in Chicago. I hope the people I am lucky enough spend my time with here know that.