As the title would suggest, I’ve finally flown the coop, moved out of the nest, grown up as some of my friends seem to suggest, and with it, comes a very large bed. A bed so big I can finally sleep with my laptop without worrying about kicking it off the bed. And no, the laptop is not metaphoric, symbolic or whatever it is of a woman.
Moving out is something I’ve planned for the last two years, and I felt it was the right thing to do, or the right time, but it has been on my mind, and finally I did. Here’s the amusing part though, it took me two months to actually move into my new place, two. I paid for a few months rent and it took me two to move in. But here’s the most most amusing thing, it’s been two weeks since I stepped home home after I moved out.
I remember waking up one Sunday evening after a long nap and telling my parents to get into the car and we go. My old man was a little surprised when I drove into some residential area and pointed to where I was going to be staying now. My mother went into over drive, asking me for a wife. A beg. Hold that thought for just a second. I could see their excitement. And mine too.
I am just bemused that moving into a new place would take that long and yet losing the ties to home could take so little a time. Must be that bed. Mehn, that bed. Anyway, I finally moved out, and this comes with more responsibilities.