More hours of transporting stuff to the new place today. Then, when I got home... Appreciated the sunset from my kitchen window, and from the study that I never got to use. The view really is pretty here from the second floor. My new place has no view whatsoever. NONE.
It's depressing to move. While I've been packing and driving over random boxes to the new place for the past 4 days, I've also been thinking about how hopeful I felt when I first moved in to my current 2-bedroom place. I'd been living in a one-room apartment from 2010 to early 2015, in the only apartment I could afford after coming back from NYC. After I got hired full-time, I could afford this 800-sq-ft place, and afford to buy a bedroom set, a real couch, a patio set, etc.
The patio set never came out of the box. I never felt comfortable enough here to sit outside.
My study, I also never got to use; within a couple of months of living here, the constant yelling of the guy downstairs apparently parked directly under my study made me move my computer to the dining table up front. Which overlooked the parking lot, where I had to constantly hear everyone coming and going, which I didn't want to hear. I hate that asshole.
My new place is 1200 square feet. Completely renovated. I should be excited about moving into a really nice place. I might be soon, but I'm not right now. Right now, I'm just tired. And depressed. Moving was interesting and somewhat "fun" in my 20s and early 30s. ("What new setting will I find myself in?!") At over 50, though, there's nothing new about any part of Austin that's interesting. And it's depressing to finally be making a decent salary but still have to live around weirdos. Without a view. Most of all, it's a huge pain in the ass (and back and ankles) to have to haul all of my shit around yet again.