I turn twenty six on Wednesday. Twenty six years old. I used to think about being in my mid-twenties all the time when I was a teenager. Being a teenager sucked and I would wish for the point in my life where I could be an adult, make my own decisions, design my own home, and buy my own stuff. That’s probably why I started working when I was 15 (14 if you count babysitting). I wanted money to buy my own belongings. Now I’m almost twenty six.
I moved into a bigger apartment on Thursday night. The whole day was a whirlwind. I thought I was just picking up my keys with Bill and Chrissy and moving in a few small items ourselves. The movers weren’t supposed to come until Friday. Around 3:45 pm, we were about to go pick up the keys when the movers called and said, “You want to do this thing tonight?” Let me just preface this by saying, I was NOT ready. Boxes weren’t sealed, the bathroom and bedroom still needed to be deconstructed and packed and I still wanted to clean the place. But I said, “Sure, let’s do it tonight.”
Cue my insane freak out.
Chrissy, Bill, and I grabbed what we could, BOLTED to my new apartment, grabbed the keys, dumped the crap we had with us then rushed back to my old apartment. We started throwing everything we saw into boxes and sealing them up. I was panicking. I tend to think I never have enough time to do everything I want to do. Let’s not get into the deeper psychological reasons behind that right now. So I’m panicking and Chrissy, the ever calm one, kept saying, “Veronica! You have a lot of stuff to do but everything you’re thinking of, in reality, only takes five minutes to do. We have enough time.” She was right but I was still freaking out on the inside.
The movers came around 7 and I was moved out of my old apartment and into my new apartment by 8:30. These guys were fast and awesome and did a fantastic job. But as much as I loved the movers, I give all the credit to Bill and Chrissy. They kept me laughing when all I really wanted to do was flip out. Chrissy unpacked my entire kitchen, Bill helped moving boxes and bookcases and lamps and everything else. They made the day fun and easy instead of stressful and manic which is usually my default settings in these situations.
It’s Saturday now, so I’ve been in this apartment for not even 48 hours and I’ve managed to unpack the entire place, my Dad hung most of my pictures, I bought a sofa and loveseat (to be delivered next Saturday), and a coffee table and end table which my Mom and I put together (after Bill helped carry them into the apartment). This is the first living room set I’ve ever purchased and it’s mine. It’s my taste and I used my money and it’s going into my apartment. No more hand me downs. I’m finally at a place in my life where I can afford to buy nice things. I can afford to invest in real furniture. It’s an amazing feeling.
The night I moved in, my friends Greg, Derek, and Chuck came over. And Greg walked in and said, “Living the dream, Veronica!” He also said, “This is a nice kitchen to learn to cook in, Veronica!” I’m ignoring that part and focusing on the “living the dream” part.
Living the dream. Usually whenever someone compliments the status of my life, I thank them and try to change the subject as quickly as possible. One reason being, compliments in general make me uncomfortable. The other reason being, every time someone compliments my life, I can’t help but think about how I’m still not a published author. I haven’t even had time to write on my website because of moving and work being crazy right now and it really bothers me. So I usually discredit anyone who says kind things about my life because there’s still a huge part missing. But I’ve come to the realization, no matter where I am in life, there might always be a part that’s not quite right. Whether it be my writing or a relationship or a job, or whatever. It’s never all going to fall into place but in comparison to where my life has been in the past…yeah, I’m living the dream.
When all my friends were over Thursday night, I looked at them and felt so incredibly grateful. For everything. I’m grateful to my parents for raising me to be an independent woman and for always working hard for what I want. I’ve been on my own for three years and without feeling the constant support of my parents, I doubt I would have made it. I’ve had two amazing jobs, the first being a legal book editor and now my job as a technical writer. I love the people I work with and I enjoy my job. My current job allows me to save money, move into a bigger place, buy furniture and live comfortably. And my friends, my wonderful friends, are the biggest part of my life. Bill and Chrissy had just come back from vacationing, they’re on their last week of summer vacation and they spent so much of their time helping me move and settle in. Then there’s my boys: Derek, Greg, Chuck, and Tommy. These guys listen to me rant and they help me when I have completely shitty days by inviting me over to sit on their roof and relax. Greg, Chuck, and Tommy also did me a huge favor by taking my second hand couch, ottoman, end tables, kitchen table, chairs, and mirror for their place.
Now, let’s reassess. Almost 26 years old, living in a bigger apartment with my newly purchased furniture and working a job I love. An amazing, supportive family I love immensely. And the best friends I could ever ask for in this life.
Yeah, I am living my dream. It’s about time.