I've been home for two years. I've left home maybe three times in those two years. This fall I am moving out again and it feels SO great to be sorting through things, busting out the dusty college boxes.
There's a level of comfort that comes with being home. I have my own room, I come and go as I please, I do my share in the house (dinner, dishes, laundry) and in turn I don't have to pay rent or for food. I like that my things are here and, despite being a culinary term, everything is mise en place, or, in it's place.
I'm getting ready to leave home again and move into an apartment with a roommate. I haven't had a roommate since 2007 and I'm not sure yet if I'm ready for one. I like having my own space, you know? My own bedroom is a place where I can take refuge from everyone around me, where I can clear my head, relax, and regroup. Well, things changed pretty suddenly as far as the roommate situation goes. My cousin Hannah moved in with me on Sunday. I had known it was a possibility, but I didn't know for sure until Friday afternoon. I used Saturday, my day off, to clean and rearrange my room in preparation for her arrival. Thus far, I'm okay with the arrangement. In fact, I kind of like it.
I've never been really close with any of my cousins. I think it's partially because I've grown up not being crazy about visiting my extended family, but also because I fall kind of in the middle of all the cousins and haven't many cousins my age. Hannah is several years younger than me, but she's easy to talk to and gets along well with people. I'm excited to have her here and to develop a close relationship with her. I'm excited to introduce her to the singles ward and all the awesomeness that it can be. I'm ready to get out of my own personal space and learn to live with someone again.
All around I'm excited. For the summer, for Hannah, for the big move in the Fall.