Earlier, the boys were being extra stompy and instead of giving myself a migraine, I just left. I had to buy food for the cats anyway, so I zipped to the store and then spent time driving around the city. I had no destination in mind, which is how I found myself cleaning out the front seat while I filled up the car, dropping off some recycling, grabbing a coffee, touring Fountain Square, and eventually cruising up I-69 towards Fishers and Noblesville. Even though I didn't want to stop driving, several things brought me home. I had no trip in mind, nowhere to spend the night, the cats needed to eat, and the coffee I'd sucked down would soon be treating my hamster bladder like a pay-by-the-hour hotel. Instead of thinking about abandoned pets and all the stuff I'd left behind, I just kept thinking I don't have my toothbrush.
I first felt the urge to keep going when I was finally able to drive 70 mph. I was on Binford right before it becomes 69 and a little spazzy seeing all the traffic coming off 465. I got in the right lane to exit at 82nd Street, thinking I'd amble through Castleton and then head home, but I didn't change my pace. I passed 96th Street, intent on exiting at 116th, but I didn't get over in time and really couldn't without cutting someone off. I saw the road signs telling me Ft. Wayne was only another 100 miles north. By the time I exited near
Heading back towards the city, I thought about my low-light apartment and the surplus of things I've collected in eight years that need to be tossed, donated, or packed. I get overwhelmed easily thinking of everything I need to tackle before I can hand over the keys, which is one of the reasons I've been here so long. I make the best plans at night about how productive I'm going to be the next day, but that magic dissipates when I sleep. Maybe I'm just delusional in the middle of the night. I feel rational. But I'm also surrounded by furniture I no longer want, a burgeoning recycling collection, and DVDs and CDs I should probably just pitch. Start over. Start fresh. When's the last time I listened to a CD outside of the car anyway?
In my next apartment, there will be no upstairs neighbors. I'll have a washer and dryer on the same level where I sleep. Ideally there will be a garden tub so I can resume buying fuzzy soaps and bath bombs. I won't have to share an entrance, any appliances, or the porch/balcony. The city will acknowledge my neighborhood and offer recycling pickup. The light will be better, the landlord/lady will be kind, and I'll have a nice view. It's all going to happen and within the next six months. I don't want to live here even one more day, but at least I can get on the interstate and feel myself moving even when things are otherwise static.