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The Move, p. 2 and so on.

So we're all moved in and pretty settled. Marcel is doing great though clearly starting to jones for the great outdoors, but that issue is still subject to debate. I've managed to strip down my objects and belongings so while I still have "a lot of stuff", it's a lot less than it was. My room is a room I can live in, and it's pretty awesome.
My room. Still a work in progress but I'd say 94% there at least.
There you go, that's my room. Still not quite full settled, but it's almost there. I need to get a real rolly chair, for one, and to hang my white/bulletin board. You can see my dual monitors going on, some of my knickknacks unobtrusively placed, and even my beautifully made bed. Yeah, that's a thing I do now. The drawers on top of the desk (upper right corner), which probably won't look like drawers to you, are from my glorious little writing desk; it's leg was breaking so my mom is fixing it.

I even had my first friend over last night. Poor guy got the "full tour", which comprises most of our 1100 sq. ft. Oh yeah, it was grueling I'm sure.

But for really, it's a really great feeling having everything unpacked and feeling settled in. And unlike other attempts at living on my own in some capacity, I'm actually taking ownership (cf. those posts about chores). I don't mean to dismiss past living situations as fruitlessly lazy & ineffectual ventures. I know I kept house somewhat decently in New York, for example; I was great about the kitchen for the most part, but my room was a deathtrap of moldering cum and unwashed everything. Not a complete success, I'd say.

And I don't want to sound off childish platitudes like "But now everything is different...", either, because I'm still the same person, just better at managing things like clutter and cleaning, I hope. Just because it seems like I've got a handle on things now doesn't mean I always will nor does it mean I can kick back and let myself off the hook. It's great I'm keeping house and stuff, but I have to continue keeping house and stuff.

As I said, I had my first "guest" over last night. It was pretty sweet feeling. Welcoming someone into my home, looking around and thinking, "Yeah, this is where I live, and it's not so bad.". That slight sense of pride in the home my roommate and I have put together is a fantastic feeling; far, far removed from the embarrassment I felt in my old room at my parents', where, perhaps haunted by my room in New York, I was usually paranoid about clutter and smells and what people's impressions of me would be.

It's safe to say I don't have that here in the new place. I think, too, that maintaining a home I can be proud of is something I can manage. And that in itself is a great fucking feeling.


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