Welp. I’m a Chicagoan now.
But before I get too far into that, let’s back up for a second.
I worked at my old summer camp last week. I didn’t have my own group of campers, so I floated around and helped out groups that could use an extra pair of big kid hands. More often that not, that meant I was with the groups of the youngest kids we have at camp. Normally I am not a fan of itty bittys. I like self-sufficient kids that know how to tie their own shoes and can remember to take all of their clothes with them when they go to change into their bathing suits. I also just generally relate better to older kids–I prefer to be the cool older sister or cousin to the mom or teacher-like authority figure at camp, if you will.
I loved my campers last week, though. I had a lot more patience with them (and everything at camp) than usual because I knew it was my last opportunity to be at camp this summer (but hopefully not ever). It really was a great week.
I made no effort to hide the fact that it was my only week at camp because of my impending move to Chicago. The staff knew, my group of campers knew, and most of the campers who come back every week every summer knew. Whenever the campers in particular would find out that I was moving, they’d ask why. And honestly, I often didn’t have an answer.
Of course the “real” answer is that I have a job in Chicago, and I can’t very well work at camp and in Chicago at the same time. But that didn’t usually seem to be a good enough answer for the campers, and it definitely wasn’t a good enough answer for me. I spent a lot of time last week trying to come up with a valid reason for why I was making this move other than that it’s what I’m “supposed” to do: you’re supposed to get a “real job” after college, you’re supposed to be a grown-up, you’re supposed to move out of your parent’s house. None of that was really good enough for me though.
I still moved to Chicago (obviously), and I’m sure that once I start working I’ll be glad I did, but the week before you move is not a fun time to start asking yourself serious questions about your motives. I know that I can’t stay at camp forever, and honestly, I don’t think that’s what I really want to do anyway. I just wish I could’ve worked a full summer at camp and then moved. Little Miss Demanding over here always wants to have her cake and eat it too.
Yesterday was moving day, and I’ve decided that, barring horrific future circumstances, yesterday was my LAST moving day until I get married. I’ve known since my freshman year of college that I hate moving, but my hatred hit unprecedented levels yesterday. Even with the help of my mom, dad, brother, grandma, and aunt, the whole affair still lasted about twelve hours, and I’m still not done taking care of everything. I’m having all sorts of trouble figuring out where I want to put everything. If I ever move again (heaven forbid), I’ll be taking volunteers who want to move all of my things and organize them for me. I promise I won’t complain about your decisions! 🙂 haha
I now have a week or so to get my life in order before I begin my job! In the mean time, I plan to reacquaint myself with this wonderful city as much as possible 🙂
Have you ever made a major move? How did it go?