I don’t know if you recall, but in a previous post I mentioned that I was moving. Said move occurred two weeks ago.
This is not just any move. This is the move. The I’m-getting-my-shit-together-and-finally-moving-out-of-my-parents-house move.
At first I was hella nervous, packing my things away, wondering how it was possible for one twenty-something to have accumulated so much crap. I was scared that I would end up not getting on with my roommate, that my bedroom would be too small, that the unknown would jump out and eat me, etc. etc.