I think I might be a grownup now…

Matt and I are officially moving once our lease at Shithole Apartments, aka Bedbug Haven is over.  My parents bought a house on Broadway, across from my old high school, that has a storefront business unit in the front, and a residence in the back.  It is, by definition, business in the front, party in the back.  Much like this Adonis:

I have never been more excited to move – which is most definitely one of the most excrutiatingly painful experiences a person can go through.  I hate moving.  I hate packing shit, I hate trying to fit all of my crap into those tiny wine boxes from the liquor store, I hate the inevitable distractions of perusing those papers I wrote for my second year political philosophy class.  I didn’t care about Machiavelli then, so why do I get so caught up in him when I have 24 hours to move?  God.

Anyway, this new place is pretty sweet – we have three bedrooms, a big living room, a huge kitchen with a breakfast nook and a dining room, and a basement which will hold…drum roll…our own washer and dryer!  No more scrambling to get your dirty undies into the washer before the person whose laundry basket has been sitting next to the machine for the last 6 hours decides to mosey on down and scream at me for jumping him in line.  And poor little Smokey will finally have room to explore and stretch his hairy legs.

There are minimal renovations to be done, outside of replacing all of the windows.  It’s mostly just cosmetic – painting rooms, replacing the vanity in the bathroom, ripping up the ugly carpet on the stairs, removing the stupid pantry in the kitchen.  Even though we’re only tenants, and renting the place from my parents, we’ll still have a say in paint colours and, to a certain extent, other renovation decisions.  It’s like a practice home!  The woman who lives in the storefront unit, however, is a grade A cuntbag (an opinion gathered after a number of encounters with her that were less than pleasant), and has a lease until the end of February, so unless we can convince her cranky ass to move out early, Matt and I will have to live with her and her bitchy antics for a few months until Fernwood can move in.  The thought of walking to work in my slippers with a cup of coffee in my hand is enough to make me climax.

Once bitchface moves out, we’re going to do a few renovations to the office area – knocking down walls, painting, removing disgusting carpeting – and as of this time next year I will be the happiest person alive.  I know that I have a history of difficulty in separating work and homelife, but I’m hoping the physical separation (the wall, that is) between my home and where I work will be enough to keep me in line.  It really will just make my life simpler, and cut out all that travel time to work and back, and make getting to the gym less a pain in the ass than it is now.

Part of this new chpater in our lives involves some financial planning and budgeting.  Now that we both have full time jobs with decent salaries (not to mention my recent bonus and raise – oh snap!), we’re planning for things like buying a 42″ plasma TV, a new computer, surround sound, our trip to Mexico in December, a Wii…it’s all very exciting, and I feel like such a grown-ass woman thinking about all of the fancy new grown up shit I’m going to have and be able to do.  Our trip to Mexico is actually for my family’s reunion – we’ll be there for a week over Christmas – but we’re also planning on taking a trip ourselves sometime after that.  Meghan and I are planning on taking a week at an all-inclusive in some tropical locale (it doesn’t really matter, does it?) this summer, and all of this planning and doing is really making me happy.  I feel less like a bumbling fool and more like someone who is finally reaping the benefits of all of those years in school, relying on student loans and happy hours to get by.  Karen was right – now’s the time I get to actually do what it is I’ve spent my 20s preparing for.  Holla!

The only downside to all of the fireworks and happytimes associated with being somewhat mature is that I’m incredibly worried about my money.  I’ve NEVER worried about money before (unless I was threatened with eviction/expulsion/etc) – I was a huge believer in the ‘it-will-all-work-itself-out’ manifesto, which did get me pretty far in a fairly stress-free manner.  But now that I actually have some cashmoney to put away for something fun like a big TV or a trip to Jamaica, I’m totally terrified that I’m going to blink and realize that I just spent $3000 on shoes or blew all of my savings on weed and licorice.  I’ve spent a fair amount of money on myself in the last four months, that’s for sure, but I saw that as justified.  I was merely allowing myself the properly-fitting and good quality clothes, shoes, necessities (you know, like shampoo that isn’t called Pert or socks that aren’t sold at Dollarama or a bra that doesn’t create the unfortunate spillover effect) that until now I couldn’t afford.  I have all of the clothes I need, I have shoes that fit me and are comfortable and won’t fall apart in a month, I have a camera whose batteries aren’t held in place by my thumb as I take a photo, I have hair that is all one colour, my bills are all paid on time and in full, and I’m pretty much good to go on all fronts.  What I’m afraid of now is that I’m going to end of making the wrong decision and sitting on the beach in Mexico will actually turn into crying into my pillow in Winnipeg while my family enjoys the cervesas and chulos that I’ve let slip through my fingers.

This, it seems, is a sign of adulthood.  I’m worried about debt repayment and credit ratings and mortgage approvals.  What is my credit rating like?  Were they serious in 1999 when they told me, after I went to Australia and didn’t make a credit card payment for five months, that I would have a permanent mark on my credit report?  Should I be worried about RRSPs and long term savings and a down payment on a house?  What does amoratized mean?  Should I be putting money away now for when I’m old and beligerant?  When should I buy a car?  How do I buy a car?  What the hell is going on here?

Despite what appears to be a nervous breakdown when I put it all into writing, I think that the combination of my traditional easy-going outlook on all things chedda and my newly developed concern for not blowing my wad on poprocks and purses is probably a good thing.  I can keep myself in check without getting so overwhelmed and crazy that I fail to take advantage of promising situations that present themselves to me.  I mean, really, when is the best time to go to Jamaica?  Right now, that’s when.  So, given that I can keep my shit together without either becoming a tightwad or a loosewad (is that a thing people say?  Because if not, it should be), I think I’ll be okay.