Movin' on up!

Over the past week or so, a lot has happened. I moved into a new apartment, was reunited with my lovely and talented girlfriend, and was requested to do a cartwheel by a mob of gay men. Each of these events was an eye opening experience in its own unique way, but really they all contribute to one conclusion.

Upgrading apartments made me realize, or more appropriately reaffirmed how much of a sap I am when it comes to letting go of things. For instance, there's a reason that my wallet tends to be big enough to bring a tear to the eye of George Costanza, and it certainly isn't because its full of money. Rather, its full of useless crap like ticket stubs, notes, and business cards of people I know I'll never need to get in touch with. The reason isn't that I'm one of those crazy hoarder people that fill their houses with garbage for years and years, its that I have a big soft spot for certain memories. Its that soft spot that's going to miss my old apartment.

I'm not going to miss the stove that only worked when it felt like it, the carbon monoxide detector that went off every time I used the oven, or the toilet that ran more than Flock of Seagulls. Despite all those nuisances, that apartment is filled with great memories for me. I'll never forget nervously pacing around by the kitchen table asking Vanessa's voicemail out for the first time, then hoping she knew I was talking about a date, not a study session. I'll remember watching about 6 straight hours of The Office with my sister when everyone else was at the Michigan-Northwestern football game. And of course I'll always remember waking up at 8 am after a late night out with Eddie and Lorenzo to find those two laying in the living room already having resumed their conversation from the night before about what Lorenzo would do if he were a Doctor and the only way he could save Eddie's life were to...you fill in the rest.

Last April when I moved into that apartment I had planned on it being the last place I would stay at in Chicago, simply holding me over until I could move back to St. Louis. Well, it took me a while, but eventually I discovered that best laid plans aren't always for the best. Luckily I was able to figure that out before it was too late, and I think at least some of the credit for that discovery belongs to my old apartment. Chicago will never be my hometown...nothing could ever turn me into a Cubs fan...but it is certainly now the town I call home. This new apartment definitely has some big shoes to fill, but I can't wait to start filling them up.