The other day, I woke up at my mom's, on the futon in the living room, surrounded by cats. It was 6:30, and my mom had already left for work. Unable to sleep, I went down the hallway, figuring I could work on clearing what will be my room again. There were a few issues with this.
Firstly, my mom's been using my room as storage (which is also what she uses the other two bedrooms for) so it's actually mostly just housing furniture. At some point in the past, my mom decided to string clothesline everywhere because her dryer is kaput. Now she hangs the laundry in the bathroom on three curtain rods, clothes-pinned to hangers. Say what you like, but my mom is resourceful. If the infrastructure of life as we know it is demolished, there's no one I'd rather be living with.
The last time I was there, I'd cleared some floor space and established a foothold—simply, a central location to stand in and move in. This time, that was undone. It was like bags of clothing had exploded. I knew this was somehow progress—and tried to remind myself that my mom has been doing endless loads of laundry with everything she's evacuated, but, visibly, it was a bit of a blow. I wasn't going to go through my mom's clothes. I closed the door behind me and noticed that the bottom hinges of the door dividing the general disarray of the house from my 9x9 soon-to-be-haven were sort of not really attached. Like, at all.
It's nothing a few screws can't fix, but portal stability was suddenly questionable. What if it doesn't work? What if it all implodes into my space, compounding, compacting, squishing me along with it?
Unwilling to attempt further progression in room-clearing, I returned to the futon, moving two cats aside to make space for my rear, and began writing a pros and cons list. When I first started thinking about moving, it was something like this:
|See my family ALL THE TIME||Transportation will be difficult|
|Save mad $$$$ while paying off little bills completely||Leaving awesome people behind|
|Get a driver's license and help moma get a decent car with my badass credit score|
|Yard, gardening, be more active|
This time, my list looks a little more like this:
|Seeing my family all the time||Lack of solitude, little totally alone time.|
|More opportunities to do social stuff||More distractions|
|Saving money I'd usually pay for rent||Will probably still end up spending everything because everyone else is broke all the time|
|More physically active; gardening, lawn mowing, housework||Clothing covered with cat hair or chock full o' smoke|
|Room for yoga, taking walks safely||Eminent and probable destruction of belongings, either from cats, mice or mildew|
|Help Moma keep the house in order||Hard to deal with this degree of clutter and the speed with which it accumulates|
|Getting a driver's license||Relying on others for transportation at first|
|Help Moma get a car||This alone will probably entirely deplete anything I was trying to save|
|Little emotional or dietetic expectations||Not going out that much anymore|
|Healthier, less expensive options for work lunches||Leaving my awesome coworkers|
|Compost/gardening, maybe grow my own food||Feeling like it's my mom's house and respecting her personal boundaries|
|More personal freedom||Where in the hell is there to go?! It's still Saginaw, ass.|
I mean, I'm still totally doing it, of course, but actually sharing living space with the Moma again is going to be... different. It's been ten years. She's used to having her house to herself, and I'm used to having many nights entirely to myself. I don't know. I'm just more than a little concerned about getting stuck in Saginaw, my lifelong fear.