The Move:
It was exciting. The Cubs were in the playoffs. The city was buzzing. The weather was still nice. We had plenty of people helping, so it went fast. And for the first time I wasn't just moving into a dorm or furnished apartment. When we starting dragging stuff up those spiraling stairs, we were walking into an empty canvas for us. I mean, what's not exciting about your first place after college? Hold on, train again.
The First Months:
These were also exciting. We took every opportunity to explore the area, even if that meant going to the same bars over and over. We went out to dinner a lot. Sat on our roof a lot. Entertained often. Drank too much. But all we did was get comfortable. We hosted an unbelievably successful Thanksgiving dinner for our friends. We got to be regulars at two different bars. We never wasted weekends. And we found out how it would be living with each other. We had the summer to really hang out, but as everyone knows, just because you're friends doesn't always mean you can be roommates. Luckily in this situation, things pretty much worked out.
The Middle Months:
If the first months were when we got 'comfortable,' the middle months was where we found our groove. Just like a pitcher on the mound, you spend a few innings just getting your stride right, but it's those middle innings when you put it on cruise control and coast. This is what the middle months meant to me. This is when I decided to go grocery shopping on a regular basis. I started making my lunch every day and sticking with it. I made a lot more dinners, even if half those dinners were frozen meals. The weather kept us even closer to our place, so we really escalated to the 'regulars' status. Got to know owners, get free drinks, light tabs, etc... And these middle months were the same ones that really tested us as roommates. It's all fine and dandy when you're running around outside, making plans and having fun. But through the pits of winter in Chicago, your energy level and overall desire to leave your place drops considerably. If I was doubting whether or not we could comfortably live together, this stretch of time proved to me that we could. And we did. And we hosted more parties, played more beer pong, bought more beer, and hibernated with the rest of the Chicagoans.
The Last Months:
Just like the final innings of a complete game, these last months, the summer months, were an absolute bear, but offered enough excitement and drama to last a long time. Summer in Chicago should be experienced by everyone at least once in their life. I really extended myself. I can't even begin to list everything that occurred during the final months at our place. There were weeks in July, August, and September where I had plans every night of the week. I wanted to take every opportunity to go do something fun. I even started getting out of my neighborhood for chrissake. I experienced a little of the loop; a little of wicker park, of bucktown, of north center. We abused our rooftop. We abused our livers. We went on weekend vacations that required a vacation from our vacations. I sacrificed sleep for a stretch of time that I could look back on and be completely satisfied. You know, the whole 'I want to look back and say that I did I the best I could while I was stuck in this place. Had as much fun as I could while I was stuck in this place' type shit. I wanted to take nothing for granted. Call me on my 'night off' and invite me to do something, what the hell, why not? Even if the weather here never let us know that we even had a summer, I can definitely say that I did, since I characterize summer by a state of mind, not the height of the mercury. But through all of this, we still couldn't open our windows. Train's gone by 7 times since I last reported.
The Transition:
I pretty much figured that we wouldn't be keeping this place when our lease expired, but I never thought I would be this excited to get the fudge out of dodge. We decided to change gears, took an apartment in a different neighborhood, a quieter one, a nicer one. We 'sacrificed' a rooftop deck for a backyard and a garage. 'Sacrificed' drinking establishments for trees. 'Sacrificed' being in the middle of it all for quiet neighbors with free street parking. Big bedrooms for a decent night's sleep. Party palace for new floors. More square footage for an in unit washer/dryer. The point is, Aside from maybe the rooftop deck, I don't really see any of these as an actual sacrifice. While I'm still 23 (yes, I know. 24 in 2 weeks...), and I'm not saying that I've already given up the life I lead for the last twelve months, I'm really happy about this step. This step towards maturity and adulthood. This realization that 'sacrificing' a crazy party area with rooftop view of Wrigley Field for a place you can be honestly proud to show off was important for me. Again, we all know I'm still going to drink my face off once in a while, that's not the point. I guess what I'm saying is I was ready for this kind of change, and I'm excited to welcome the lifestyle effects it will have.
The Conclusion:
I would like to say I left my mark on Wrigleyville. For the people I've met in my first year here, for the bartenders that continued to take care of me, for the strangers that peed next to my car, whatever. I leave here with no regrets. Our place was... nice. The location was... nice. My experiences here... unforgettable (and at times unrememberable). So if you had the chance to be a part of 947 W. Newport Ave, thank you. Through it all, it treated us well. And a part of me will always miss the place, my first out-of-my-parents-house post-college apartment, but in every sense of the phrase, I am ready to move on. I'm ready to close the game, throw my last pitch, get the final out, knowing there's another game waiting just around the corner for me.
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