On this hot and steamy Sunday night, I find myself sitting in a laundry room in Kansas, trying to figure out how many minutes is left on the cycle.
If this isn’t what being grown-up is like, I don’t know what is.
Last week I moved into my own little room, and by little, I mean that somewhere around 500 or 800 (same thing right? All the numbers have mashed together in my head these days) other people living above and below me. It’s…. different? Yes, that’s the word I’m searching my tired, throbbing head for.
It isn’t particularly bad, but it isn’t particularly good. Being in walking distance to pretty much my entire life for the semester is nice, and good for my legs. But I miss my neighborhood and going for morning runs with my mom. It’s great to have an entire dining hall buffet parallel to my dorm, but the food isn’t extraordinarily appetizing and the lines are brutal enough as it is. I love my roommate, but I miss my friends back home (Wondering if they’re trying to figure out how to do laundry too?)
I’m starting to realize the fine line of balance between letting go of what was and reeling in what is. I don’t have the opportunity to see my mom, dog, boyfriend, and neighbor on the daily (sometimes hourly) any more. I don’t get to sit around the table and eat homemade ravioli casserole while my brothers argue about baseball players. I can’t show up in my friend’s basement on Saturday night and eat popcorn/play Dance Dance Revolution.
I get to smile at people on my floor, eat from the salad bar in the dining hall between classes, and (I’m still trying okay?) meet new people and explore new places. Like I said, I’m doing my best to find balance. There’s a yoga class at the recreation center, I think I might go sign up for it immediately after this is posted.
But for now, I’m concentrating on one unfamiliar challenge at a time, and speaking of, I think I have to go check the dryer.. (Mom, if you’re reading this, is it supposed to be making that weird piercing beeping noise?!)
Trying my best,