I’d forgotten how much I hate moving…until today, when I spent the better half of seven hours either packing up my illegal basement suite, hauling furniture up a flight of stairs (and then up a second flight of stairs, since I’m moving into an upstairs apartment), or driving a U-Haul around Calgary…which, given the driving ability of your typical Calgarian is decidedly dangerous. In theory, the worst should be over: I’m done with most of the heavy furniture, although I’ve still gots lots of arranging to do. I’m sleeping at the new place tonight; tomorrow, once I’ve finished packing, I’ll do an industrial-strength cleaning of the illegal basement suite, hand over my keys, say goodbye to my landlady, and look forward to my next great housing adventure.
You won’t believe me, but I’ll kind of miss my illegal basement suite: for the past year it’s been mine. Sure, I’ve been forced to share the actual house with an assortment of shady characters, but for the first time in my life I had my very own place. It’s conceivable I’ll never live alone again, so I’ll be certain to savour the next few hours. Yeah, there’s a lot about this apartment I won’t miss–like the noise emanating from upstairs as we speak–but it’s been good to me. Let’s hope this next place is even better.