On changing addresses

Penny couldn't wait two days and sent me a text last night.

Sorry again for disturbing you this morning. I'm so embarrassed about the things I told you - we hardly even know each other!

That's alright. As you said, we're meant to be friends. :)

 Haha, ok. I'm going to prepare for our set now. Take care! Catch me again early in the morning next time.

But I won't be able to anymore. While she was texting me, I was on my way to the broker to sign the lease contract and pay the security deposit on the condo I will be sharing with my sister and some friends. I'm moving in on Sunday.

Since leaving my parents' house five years ago, I've counted eight different places as home. The first was CH where I spent the first three years of college life. That room saw me have my first college heartbreak, not to mention scandals galore. Oh, if those walls could speak I would die of SHAME. In my senior year we were all moved to the brand-spanking-new UD which did not feel quite so homey but whose fire exit provided a convenient smoking area for my friends and I. After graduation, I lived for a few months with my roommate and his sister in an apartment compound in VH. I will always remember smoking in the driveway to the sounds of our neighbors next door having sex. (To be fair, they did have songs-to-make-love-to playing in the background but they were enjoying so much their moans could still be heard.) And then I left for UKR on an exchange program. I stayed in a student hostel where I met Andriy S, Andriy D, Andriy B, and Vova. After two months our landlady kicked us out on charges of inflicting death-by-urination on her flowers. That was a completely baseless allegation and I maintained that winter was the real culprit but the Andriys, Vova, and I moved out anyway. I stayed for a week with a widower, her seven year old daughter, and a kitten called Dima. My room had no door and every night Dima would creep into my room and fall asleep with me. I was fine with this until he began having nightmares dreams and started pouncing on me like I was a giant mouse. Then I moved to another hostel where I reunited with my fellow accused in Crazy Landlady v Boarders. This was where I finally succeeded in seducing Andriy S. And then I came home and lived with my grandma's house in Caloocan which is so fucking far from everywhere else in Metro Manila. I couldn't survive the long bus rides twice a day and so now here I am in my present (but not for long) situation.

I recently told a friend that I was moving again and she asked, don't you find moving around so much a hassle? To which I replied, I've been living a minimalist life. And I think I truly have been - there are not that many things in my backpack, figuratively and otherwise. I don't live with just 50 things but sans my ancient PC, I can fit all my stuff into two large moving boxes. It feels very liberating to own so little and you know why? The things we think we own own us too! Big things like cars demand a lot of us - money for gas, time for repairs, etc. Small things too can encroach on our lives. If you didn't own that TV you wouldn't waste so much time on those cheesy soaps! I'm afraid my minimalist philosophy will soon be endangered. The lease is for a year and I foresee the condo accruing furniture, appliances, decor, et cetera ad infinitum. How long before I get pwned owned?