I just gave my 30 days notice at my apartment. I purposely did it before midnight because I wanted to be able to say that I left as much garbage in 2010 as I could. Whether it'll all stay there, instead of following me for at least the near future, no one knows at this point.
I never really understood why people would complain about moving home or why some might be hesitant to do it. I happen to love my parents and always thought "I'd just love to live at home again!" But I'm finding out actually having to do that really messes with your head. For no reason at all, it makes you feel like a big fat failure, even when the circumstances are beyond your control. Let me be clear, no one has even come close to saying the words "You're moving home?! What a loser!" Somewhere deep inside my head, though, those words are lurking.
I'm not completely set on it quite yet. I gave notice so that, if I don't have a job by the end of January, I won't be paying rent and throwing away half of my severance pay when I may or may not have a new job lined up in The City Beautiful. If an opportunity should come my way in the next month, I do have the option of taking back my notice and, as long as my unit isn't already rented, staying. That would obviously be the easiest option. Who likes moving? Not me. And the thought of boxing up all of my belongings is not even close to appealing. It will give me a chance to clean out, though.
One thing that I have realized (and kind of hate to admit) is that exercise of some form does make you feel better. I've tried to get myself back on track with my training since the marathon is in eight days. I wasn't excited about running with everything else going on, but I decided to suck it up and get outside. I'm glad I did because I had a decent run yesterday and feel like I might be getting the bug back. The true test will be what happens after the actual race. I want to keep it up, but I know it's going to take real discipline. One thing is for sure: if I'm living at home, I will be able to count on my dad asking me every single day "Did you run today?" The only way to avoid that will be to beat him to the punch by telling him "I already ran today." before he asks. Not having to hear that question might be incentive enough to get me outside. MIGHT be.
On that note, I need to go get myself in bed. I'm running seven miles in the morning. That's a start, right?