Tonight is my last night in this apartment, my Flat of Desperation where I have resided for the past two years. I moved here in a mighty hurry in 2012 when my two-year roommate/ten-year-friendship situation went south leaving me on the cusp of being homeless. It was the right complex, but the wrong apartment: I had been wanting a two-bedroom (a dream of mine since I moved to Kansas City in 2003) but had to move so quickly that all I could get was a one-bedroom. I took it, shoved all of my crap (roughly the contents of a three-bedroom house because aforementioned roommate ditched her possessions) into a teeny space, and tried to live in acceptance of my mess.
It has been an ugly two years. The Flat of Desperation has never been clean or orderly and I have clinically diagnosed OCD where one of my fixations is order. The anxiety levels have been spectacular for two years. Then, in March, I was notified that my long wait for a two-bedroom was over and I would be moving on May 8th though I could have the keys the afternoon of the 7th. Joy! Glory! Happiness! I would be able to get organized! Happiness abounds!
Well, it’s May 6th. This is what my apartment looks like tonight.
Yeah. And I’m not done. This is going to be very interesting.