Lo and behold, duty called and I had to work an extra hour
and a half that evening, getting me back to the apartment later. When would
this damn apartment stop being a thorn in my side? So I’m cranky and I'm
scrubbing behind toilets, filling holes in the wall, wiping down walls and
doors and then suddenly I’m done.
My car is loaded up with the last of the cleaning supplies
and the only thing that sits in the house is the access key to the on-site gym.
Then nostalgia hits. I’ve been hating this apartment for so long
now. Between finding a new place, moving out, cleaning it up and our *bad word*
of a downstairs neighbor pissing us off- like for real guys, she was insane and
most likely on drugs- I had forgotten the good times.
This is the apartment I started my career at KOBI in.
This is the apartment Lulubelle came home to.
This is the apartment Sam and I moved into when we didn’t
have any friends down here.
I learned how to keep a commitment when I was working two
jobs and waking up at 3 AM to travel to Myrtle Point, when I really didn’t want
to.
I learned that you have to earn your spot in a company in
this place.
I learned how to communicate effectively with your best
friend when you get in an argument here.
I hosted my first dinner party here.
I dated someone with the same first and last name as me in
this house- check that off the bucket list!
This is the first place I called home in Southern Oregon.
I cried here, I laughed here and I lived here. I wouldn’t
want to go back but I do appreciate the time I spent here and the memories that
were created. I’m moving on to bigger and better things. I love the new house,
I love my job and I love the Rogue Valley.
This is definitely one of the “ups” they talk about in life
and I’m riding this wave as long as I can.

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