Something done a million times before by an infinite amount of people somehow feels revolutionary now that I am experiencing it all for the first time.
I spent the night in my new apartment last night. I never thought sleeping could be such a thrill when it’s in a place I can call “my own.” The things I’m used to and the things I’m not have all caught me off guard. The fact that my bed is not in the same place of the bedroom as it was when it was at my parents’ is strangely fulfilling. Still, it’s the same bed and it feels the same and acts the same as it did before. Still, everything seems to be made anew and feels ultimately refreshing.
This morning, I woke up when someone’s car (I think it was a Nissan) backfired, sputtering and coughing it’s way to life, then “erching” its way through the parking lot and onto the main road. Needless to say, I walked across my bedroom and closed my window.
At “home” with my parents, dogs bark every morning. As if to greet the day with a loud, inconsiderate, “I am a dog and therefore am allowed to complain as much as I please.” I have since learned to drown them out and can sleep through any sort of obnoxious howl, yip, or whine. This morning, I heard no barking. Only the slamming of car doors and turning of engines around 7:00 in the morning. People scrape their feet across the pavement to their autos and drive to their early morning English class or their nine-to-five cubicle work stations.
So it’s all new. And it’s all seemingly wonderful.
Not to mention the fact that Amy, my roommate, is so freakishly awesome.