Earlier this month I wrote my last rent check ever for my current address, and it’s been making me all reflective and pre-nostalgic.
This isn’t a huge move—I’m just going to a different neighborhood in Boston—but I’ve been here at this apartment in Allston for almost 3 years. That’s the longest I’ve been in one spot since I left home for college. It really doesn’t seem that long, though, maybe because I’ve gone through a lot of roommates so there were often new people to get used to. (They don’t leave because of me, I swear!)
I didn’t know I was moving to Allston when I agreed to it—I mean, I knew I was moving to a place called “Allston,” but I just signed on as the 4th person in this apartment without really knowing anything about the area but knowing I’d be living with a friend. I was told I could walk to the T, and that was all I needed. But I had almost no concept of Boston neighborhoods and I could just as easily have moved to Dorchester by accident. Really I was incredibly lucky.
In the interest of full disclosure, I’ve been hot and cold on Allston throughout my stay. On the one hand, Sunset Bar & Grill within walking distance; on the other, drum practice across the street at 10pm. Easy to get to Harvard Square and Coolidge Corner; some pretty sketch people digging through my trash at night. But overall it’s been good to me. Cheap and decent, it gave me a few years right out of college to get on my feet. (You know, after I moved out of my sister’s basement. Yes, I was that sibling.)
And now that I’m on my feet, I’m moving on. I’ll be living by myself for the first time ever, just me and the cat. Adventure!
Also an adventure: I will be moving September 1st along with every other sentient being in Boston. God help us all.