Moving and a Stalker*

Oh Friends.  I just reserved the Uhaul.  I'm moving.  Next Saturday morning.  Its funny how much the anxiety kicks in as soon as you make a tiny decision like reserving a Uhaul.  Its not like it cost me to do it.  And I can always cancel.  And I'm only moving a mile and a half down the road.  SO why the racing heart, the sweaty palms, the squeezy feeling in my stomach?

Here's the deal.  On average as a kid, we moved about every four years.  When my family settled down in one place for longer than 4 years, I left for college 4 years into it anyways.  And in college, I lived in the same place for... you guessed it, 4 years.  

And I've lived here for 4 1/2 years.  Which means I've lived here longer than anywhere else.  Not much longer.  But longer still the same.  And I love it here.  I love my ward.  I love my landlord.  I love my cute little house.  

What I don't love is how much it costs, and as a grad student, I really cant afford to be dumping this much rent money.  And I kind of don't love coming home to the alone reminder that there is no roommate, which is mostly peaceful, but also a reminder that I'm paying too much rent.  

SO I'm moving in with Luna.  (You may have noticed that I avoid using identifying features on here, and most often choose to substitute names with Harry Potter names.  Recently I learned even more about the importance of online privacy*.  So I hope she doesn't mind being dubbed "Luna".)  Luna is a fellow Ravenclaw.  And she is delightful and awesome and has become one of the dearest friends I have ever known.  

Part of my anxiety is that living together will screw up our friendship.  But i'm going to try extra hard to behave myself.  And we are grownups, not college students away from home for the first time.  

And I am hoping this is my very last short term living arrangement.  I am a little over a year away from finishing grad school.  As soon as I finish that up, I should be able to get a stable grown up job and buy a place of my own.  

See how I'm talking myself down from the anxiety?

Now.  Who wants to come help me move this couch up a few flights of stairs?

*Oh, you noticed that did you?  Its a little creepy.  Remember this little gem of a post? Well the highlights are: I told him off, he continued to insult in a passive-aggressive feigned kindness, I told him to leave me alone, he asked me out, I blocked him and made my information unsearchable, and so he sent a stalker letter to choir.  This creeper just won't go away. There's nothing quite like having the president pull you aside to give you some "fan mail" and ask if you need help managing the situation.  *shudder* Despite the fact that he's probably not actually dangerous, its still not awesome to feel like unwanted people can find you. I didn't sleep much the night that happened.  The human imagination is a terrifying thing. 

So on a brighter note, moving to a new place where there is another person, and a security gate, should help with that too. Although now this human's imagination is picturing Luna and myself fighting off a crazy person intruder.  And that's actually a really funny picture.