Moving out, moving on...

Last time I ever closed this door.

How things can change in the space of just a few months is absolutely ridiculous, when you think about it. 

After a shitty roommate situation, I finally moved into my own place (not shared with anybody, really mine) in about September of 2010. It was a little one bedroom apartment in Milwaukee's Bay View neighborhood, and I loved finally having my own space and having the freedom to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. When fallouts with friends happen, they often leave scars, and this one definitely did. 

The moral of this story is, though, that the apartment was the first thing that was really mine. My bachelorette pad, if you will. 

I started dating Mike in October, and he moved in in December. That left one cramped one bedroom apartment to house two adults and two cats. Not that I'd go back and change anything, because I definitely wouldn't. I just knew that it was time to grow up and get out. I'd been looking around for places here and there, and found one through work that we fell in love with. In the middle of February, we moved in, and having the additional space is definitely nice. An entire bedroom to house our hobbies (and of course, the fallout junk from everywhere else)! A living room big enough for two couches! Air conditioning! A dishwasher! The amenities are ridiculous in comparison to my old apartment, that was really only big enough for one person, with its' tiny kitchen and bathroom, and just enough character to get by.

I loved that place. I created so many things there, taught myself a lot of new things craft wise, spray painted in the bathroom, finally got cable for the first time in over a year, burned remnants of a past relationship in the bathroom sink... and you get it. Living in that apartment is not anything I'll ever forget, but I'm glad that I'm getting to experience life as I am right now. Uncharted territory is always scary, but you have to look back to be able to look ahead, don't you?