“Moving” On

The view up Bronson Ave.
The view up Bronson Ave.

I had never actually moved houses for the sake of moving houses before. Since leaving my parent’s home my changes of residence depended on university semesters or the duration of my visa. This is the first time I find myself moving houses just to have a different house.

My old apartment suited me well. It was on an efficient bus route to get to class on time. It was in a great location not too far from anything I really needed. My roommates were easy-going and pleasant and the accompanying cats quickly became my favourite part after moving in. I didn’t know anything about the place before I agreed to fill an empty room. I just knew that I was returning to Canada from France and needed a place to live in Ottawa, so I arranged to take the spot of a friend of mine who was moving to a different city.

It was very much student housing. The building was a big old home that was converted into apartments (that I’m quite certain are a step down from the property’s previous glory), however, the remaining glory could still be noticed in the high ceilings, which were always the first thing people would comment on upon entering. My favourite quote about the apartment was…

“Wow! I feel so small in this apartment. The ceilings are so high and the cats are so big.”

Other than that, the house had all the charm and burdens of an old home. Everything just seemed kind of shabby and grimy. Our underdeveloped housekeeping skills were of little use in fighting the filth that three lazy young adults, two large cats, and whoever else we brought into our nest, could create. The apartment was also poorly lit. Almost all of our windows opened up to a narrow alley and a view of the brick building next door. This combined with the fact that we couldn’t open the windows without the cats escaping (Shnuggles scratched holes in all the screens), meant that our windows did little in terms of bringing the outside world in. This presented an even bigger problem during the hottest spells of the summer where fighting an onslaught of fruit flies buzzing in the stagnant, humid, multiple-litterbox scented air was an uphill battle. Despite my qualms with the beauty of the place, I was quite happy to live there. It was very warm and cozy in the freezing winter months and a great spacious place to have friends over that wasn’t too inconvenient for anyone to get to.

I do feel sad though, as I am about to leave this place behind. Even though I’ve only lived here for a year and a half, a lot has happened to me here. This is where I lived during the suffering of the last months of university. This is where I lived when I got my first real job and began the daily commute downtown. After a year of adventure on exchange, this is where I settled to be practical and to establish myself before embarking out into the world again. My successes, my failures, firsts, lasts, drama, romance, and comedy all unfolded within the confines of the four walls of my room. A backdrop that holds many memories is difficult to leave behind.

Although, in a year and a half I have matured, which is exactly why I need to leave this apartment. 2015 Michael is free from the demands of school and wants to progress. Thus far he goes to the gym, cooks, eats relatively healthy, and has time to pursue his interests. In the spirit of maximizing life’s enjoyment, I move into my new bachelor March 1st, a 10 min walk from my old apartment. A move I think suits the direction I want to take. I will miss the cats. I will miss my roommates. I will miss the apartment, but change is a double edged sword and doing something new will be good. Besides I am keeping my keys for now to wean myself off of the cat’s attention.


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Been messing around/up since 1991

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