It’s 3AM right now on the third night in a row of not sleeping. The first night I didn’t sleep because I was stressed an emotional. Cried and cried. The second night I couldn’t sleep because all I could think about was how many spatulas one person might need. The third night, well. Half of my room is disseminated, piles for trash and giveaway, making sure I have everything.
I am moving even closer to work (as if I wasn’t close already). I am moving into *basically* my own place. The owners took one incredibly large master bedroom and put a wall up, then created a kitchen. Full size fridge and everything. I have my own bathroom, own pantry- it’s all mine… by myself.
And while I can’t say I’m not freakishly excited, it also feels “wrong” in a way. I have never been completely by myself before. It’s definitely a stepping stone in adulting. I am some kind of “scared” or something. I have house sat before and I love it- everythings quiet and all mine. My roommate frequently goes on trips and I am home alone. But this is different. This is my own space, my own stuff.
The place (definitely need to think of a name for my new home… any suggestions??) isn’t furnished- which, keeping with the theme of positivity, is good! It gives me a chance to buy my own furniture (gradually though, I am already freaking out about the fact I don’t own towels or a single spatula). Vegas Friend has an air mattress I will be sleeping on for a few weeks (maybe two… I just don’t have the courage to buy a bed.. I don’t think).
This also means a whole new budget! Yay!
I am so incredibly excited. I have learned a lot by living here with my roommate. The basis of being a grown up and paying rent. Telling her I was moving out was hard. I cried just because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but as she said, it’s a time to spread my wings. (Insert anxious persons mind here: SPREAD MY WINGS? I AM NOT A BIRD, I DO NOT HAVE WINGS, WHAT AM I DOING DOING BIRD THINGS?!?!?!)
Vegas Friend has an extra set of silverware and plates, AssKicker Mom has a surplus of towels I can have. A friend at work has a dresser. It’s all coming together quite smoothly. Now granted, I don’t have a spatula, knife, cutting board, heater, bath mat, oven mitts and like 30 other super important things- but that’s okay.
Now, as far as the divorce…. You’re going to get a kick out of this. You know how some questions just can’t be sugar coated? Mhhkay…
I text my ex randomly last week saying exactly this “so, are we divorced yet?”
Insert seal laugh/clapping here. I didn’t do it to be mean! Like how else was I supposed to ask that? I think his response was “I think so” (sidenote: love how neither of us know). I guess we are waiting on the judge or some garbage that his lawyer promised would be done over a month ago.
Considering the possibly-maybe-could-be-slightly-divorced box I now check at the doctors office, I did a thing. I made a “Divorce Party” registry on Target, listed those stinking spatulas and even a salt and pepper shaker (because I don’t even have that… bahahahha). Which I am not going to lie, the last time I did a registry was for my wedding. But when the bomb dropped I only packed my clothes and hair products (duh) and left EVERY SINGLE THING THERE. Stinker has a crockpot I bet he never uses.
I am excited for what all of this means for Adultish. Basically, I am going to learn a stink-ton more of life lessons- and you guys get to hear all about it! Just don’t let me sell my kidney when things get rough, okay? Cause I have already looked up the price.