Because it's all about the in between and what lives in your dreams.

In happier news than that of the last blog, I got approved for my very own apartment today.  Mine.  No one else's.  No co-signor.  No roommates.  No one to blame if the dishes are dirty or there's no toilet paper.  No one to compromise with on the color of the walls, shade of the bathroom curtain, or the evening's television choices. 

Of course, no one to cook with, or vent to, or play board games with.  No one to help me back up when I fall or hug me when I cry or laugh uncontrollably when I do something ridiculous.  But somehow I think I'll survive.  There are phones in Charlotte, and I do have a car if the quiet is unbearable.

Mine.

The last time I lived alone, I was 21 and scared out of my mind.  I cried myself to sleep most nights.  I couldn't even tell you what exactly frightened me so, all I remember is that it was not my decision to be solo and I was hellbent on letting the world know that it made me miserable.  This lasted all of 2 months and then Jennifer rescued me.  It's been roommates for me ever since. 

And to be fair, I have generally been blessed with incredible luck in living situations.  Sure, there was the whole situation with She-Who-Shall-Now-Only-Be-Known-As-Bitchface back in December 2009.  Long story short?  She decided rent was optional, lied to all parties involved, and reduced what was suppose to be a lovely weekend to something that quite resembled a Jerry Springer episode.  Cops were involved, fake tears shed, words screamed and insults hurled.  It sucked at the time, but it's a pretty riveting story to tell now, if you ever have a couple hours to throw my way.  BUT OTHER THAN THAT!  Seriously.  Lucky.

But now it's time to live alone, hopefully for the last time in my life because it sure would be swell if there's love, marriage, and a couple of baby carriages around the next turn.  Who knows, though?  God laughs at plans, so I stopped making them awhile ago.  Wishes are different, thankyouverymuch, and dreams will always exist.

I digress.  New apartment.   Mine.  I sign the lease and get the keys on Thursday.  I made my preliminary Home Depot run today and have shiny new tools and picture hooks and lamps to show for it.  I sense Wal*Mart and Target and Old Time and World Market and let's be honest, probably Bed Bath & Beyond in my near future.  (I adore the thrill of new supplies, of almost any variety.)  The physical act of moving sucks, but the feeling of newness and starting over (yet again) is so, so worth it. 

Oh, and have I mentioned my fabulous new apartments has a bedroom/bathroom/closet layout uncannily similar to Carrie Bradshaw's and comes equipped with washer and dryer?  Lord Almighty, my prayers have truly been answered.