home sweet home

I have a been a busy, busy girl this week!

Big news of the week: I am moving into a new tri-cave (you know, the place where I eat, sleep, play with my cat, and store my ridiculous amount of triathlon equipment) at the end of February.

I looked at one apartment. Just one. I hate apartment hunting. I liked the one I looked at so I made the call. The apartment is in one of the eastern suburbs of Rochester where there is less noise, better roads for cycling, and more security. It is also a studio apartment. A 27 year old girl living in a studio - pathetic? Perhaps. Carrie Bradshaw lived in a studio. I have better things to spend my money on than rent (such as plane tickets to Idaho. or IM merch. or anything, really). But it's a cute studio; smaller than my current apartment but nicer quality, better location, no wall-inhabiting squirrel or leaking windows - and after weighing the pros and cons I decided to go for it. It has a freakin' DISHWASHER. (Anyone who has scrubbed the grime out of 10 bike bottles using a paper towel wrapped around a fork knows how epic this is). I am going to buy a big-ass bookshelf. And although I detest moving, this is the perfect opportunity to do "the purge" of all the crap I have that is not needed. I am starting "the purge" this weekend by cleaning out my closets and donating all the clothes/shoes I don't wear to the Salvation Army.

Smaller apartment, simpler living. That's the whole idea.

Of course, the first thing my mom asked me was where my bike was going to go. Um, hello mom.. in the middle of my living room, exactly where it sits in my current apartment. Bike in the middle of the room, Ironman posters on the wall, finisher's medals and awards scattered around, a pile of dirty workout clothes in the corner, foam roller on the floor, wetsuit hanging off the shower rod, 6 different types of "ointment" for "areas" that my bike saddle comes in contact with in my bathroom. I don't pretend to be classy. My home will never be featured in H&G. I will never have a mature, grown-up apartment. I am just not that kind of person. I am less "pulled together" and more "mildly chaotic."

Maybe I will follow suit with Mr. Curbeau and get rid of all of my furniture altogether so that my only options are to a) sit on the floor or b) ride the trainer. (I think I would opt for the floor most of the time).

Maybe not. My cat would get pissed.