There’s a weird pattern that’s emerged in my life over the last year. I don’t know if it’s actually a pattern so much as a coincidence, but here goes: within a week of getting all my art finally hung up on the wall, some catastrophe at least raises the specter of having to move months earlier than originally planned.
Back in January, having moved into our apartment seven months before, my boyfriend and I finally finished hanging the art on the walls. It was less than a week later that he came home and said he wasn’t sure this relationship was what he wanted in his life.
A few weeks ago, I decided to stop faffing about and finally get some stuff up on my bedroom walls. A few days later, my roommate got unexpectedly laid off. Now we have to consider that we might have to break our lease if we can’t pay the rent. We’re obviously hoping it doesn’t come to that, but it’s a bit of a deterrent to further nesting on my part.
So yeah. Maybe I’ll just have a big yard sale, get rid of all my Edison bulbs and gold paint, and just keep a mattress and one IKEA nightstand. That would probably be better.