This is all-too familiar territory. In just over a month, I will be moving again, into a new apartment, with an old roommate. For the first time, however, I will be moving out of choice, not some need to get away. Even though I keep telling people that the traffic and the train is getting to me, I really enjoyed my time on Comm Ave. Let's face it, going it alone in the city is not easy, especially on the wallet, but for three years I have somehow managed. Now I am moving on again, and even though I'm excited about the new place and situation, I will miss my current place just a little because, as I said, I'm not actually escaping.
Years ago, when I got my first real apartment, as an adult, with my girlfriend, I was a tad scared that I might not be able to handle all the responsibility. But, it was a large one bedroom, with a big living room and kitchen, a walk to the T, free street parking and a month-to-month lease. Looking back, it was a sweet deal, especially that part about the lease. It become even sweeter when I moved out five months later after my girlfriend and I broke up, because I would have either had to break the lease or kill her. I moved into a much crappier apartment a couple miles away, which only about $25 cheaper, but was a studio with a thick layer of tar on the windows. I signed a year lease, knowing that I would certainly not stay there a day longer, which almost made it like staying in a hotel for a really long trip.
Six months into my lease, I had already made plans to move, and called an old friend of mine to see about shacking up together. We ended up in Cambridge, Porter Square to be exact, in a large apartment on the 3rd floor of a house. This one sounded awesome, with central air, utilities included, laundry in the basement, on-street parking, and again, a walk to the T. And I had always wanted to live in Cambridge. As the months went on, and my roommate and i battled squirrels in the attic, mice in the closet, and a landlady who not only refused to fox the central air when it blew out, but also rarely got around to cashing the checks. She would end up cashing three at a time every three months. Then she raised out rent each year we were there, despite the fact that the apartment was actually declining in value (unless squirrels running over your head and chewing through your screens constitutes a bump in price.) After three years, and learning that she would once again raise the rent, we had decided we had enough. It was sad to split with my roommate, but she wanted to move home to save some dough and I wanted to move closer to work, so we parted ways.
I moved into my current place in Brighton; a large, sunny, one bedroom, HT-HW included, and literally steps to the T. The bar on the corner didn't hurt, either. I also had several friends in the neighborhood, which really helped the transition. They funny thing is, most of them are moving too. Two of them (sisters) are moving in with their respective boyfriends. I hope they have better luck than I did when I tried that all those years ago. One of them, a co-worker of mine is getting a new job, as well. My nights spent at that corner bar are probably numbered (There are other bars, after all.) It may not seem like much, but it really is a time of great change. It's like we're building up for the big season finale, and I have no idea what the writers have in store for next season. But it better be good.