Are You There Maude? It's Me, Harold.

The experience of moving out of my previous house has felt reminiscent of an abrupt break up. It felt surreal for a second.
I was 21 years old and found myself an isolated guppie in a sea of thoughtless peers.
But then my mind momentarily stiff armed my sentiments aside and took action to recover, to literally move on.

See, to revise a long story into a short one, my great landlord's weasel-ass son conveniently graduated law school and returned to my town just in time to evict my friends and neighbors (in order to move his own weaselly ass in early) and scam me out of my home. I had 2 weeks notice to find a new home and a night and a day to pack my life into little boxes made of ticky tacky, seal them with duct tape (the stuff of life) and lift-move-repeat.

The last night my room and I were together, we shared a special moment, creating a Best Of - My Room Edition and mourning the passing of a relationship that once was beautiful and comforting and satisfying. But then, without warning, it became nothing but a cold, empty space. One with which I no longer had a connection. All traces of our relationship vanished into thick, cardboard lined air.

I found myself driving past my former settlement the day after I moved out. I rolled down the window of my black Honda Accord, my peering eyes asking, Is it really over? Just like that?
The unfamiliar porch furniture replied, May I ask who's speaking?
Oh, the goddamn nerve you all have. I saw how you put the gifts I left you in the trash. The microwave in which we shared many a left over, the corner chair that was there when I moved in. The chair?! I guess I thought you were different.

I've moved on now, though. I have a new home with a yellow living room I fear will remind me of my old, yellow dining room. A new porch which probably won't offer the people watching atmosphere of a previous time gone by. But you know what, I have lots of houses that WISH I lived in them. The house in the duckpond. The place on 8th and 3rd. The apartment upstairs is in love with me. Oh, 202. What could I have done to impress you?

Yes, I'm with my new place. I even have a new room now. We're pretty happy together. But to be honest I still think of my old room often. Of course it will subside. I mean, if a room is going to be that empty and distant (clear across town), I don't need it anyway, right?

What's a warm-blooded animal like me to do
Among all you, so cool?

-Mosephine Don't Know What She Knew Before