Tales from the Bachelor Pad

I signed the lease and finally exhaled. The long search for a place to live was over and the ink of a new chapter of my life was fresh on the page.

There is nothing quite as liberating as moving. Sure, it’s a lot of work to pack, move and unpack. Sure, it costs money. And granted, waiting for someone to come turn on your utilities is a real pain, but being free of an old living arrangement is worth the occasional frustration.

Last week, I moved out of the big old house where I spent the last two years of my college life and into a smaller place on my own. Gone are the days of roommates. My new place may not be in the world’s best neighborhood. It may not have a big kitchen or linoleum in the bathroom, but I can’t help but love it. For all intents and purposes, this is my first place as an adult. I pay the bills here, I decide what posters hang on the walls and if I want to have an impromptu dance party, no one can tell me I can’t. It’s perfect. My inner control freak has never been so at peace.

Some people like to settle and put down roots for a long time. They like to grow into a space gradually and evolve with it over time. Others — myself included — like to pick up and reinvent our home every few years. We like to be comfortable, but we can’t resist the temptation to start over.

Believe me, there’s something immensely satisfying about living alone. All of the little inconveniences of shared living have evaporated overnight. It is good. I even have a little office where I can read and write  — how cool is that?!

Really, it’s not about the floor plan or the amenities. It’s not even about the solitude. It’s about the intangible quality of a new space for new adventures. My last house came with history; this place is a blank slate, waiting for someone to define it.

They say that a lot of things change after college. I’m expected to be “discovering” who I really am. Perhaps I will and this shall be my base of operations. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for some mac ‘n’ cheese.

— 30 —

When I’m not busy unpacking my boxes of books (it never ends!), I can usually be found on the Twitter machine: @jonnyeberle.

%d bloggers like this: