Look at Me, Adulting All Over the Place.

This time next week, you’ll be getting a filler post (a poem I wrote in college) as I settle in to my new apartment.  It’s by no means my first apartment, or my first time living away from my parents’ house, or even my first time living in this particular faraway state.  I can change a tire (on any car but my own– my damn wheels appear to be stuck on by forces you usually only find in a Harry Potter book), I can shut off a water main, I can cook without burning down the house and do my own coin-operated laundry.

My family has always been highly independent, so dealing with my own problems and my own schedule has never been a problem.  I’m a mature, responsible grown-up.  I’ve been dying to move out for months.

There is no reason for this to be a huge and terrifying move, but it is.

Why?  And how do I deal with that stress?