I can’t believe Christmas is over. Sometimes when I sit around of holiday-decorated table of friends and Cole’s family, I forget about what I do for a living. It’s like a double life I push out of my mind when I’m not in my studio and then it surprises me when I remember—like realizing that you left the stove on once you’ve boarded a plane. Compartmentalizing things isn’t so bad though. That’s what a therapist once told me that it’s called. And I’ve become pretty good at it.
I’ve given my landlord 60 days notice. I only need to give 30, but I figure why not get it out of the way. Plus, it prevents me from backing out. Cole will have already moved into his new house and he claims he wants to have enough time to make a few repairs in the carriage house.
I’m nervous, but excited. I won’t miss this apartment at all: the noise, the island of cracked concrete or the drab interior. The carriage house actually has some greenery, privacy, and little outdoor patio. I’ll have to be sure not to wear out my endearance to Cole and his family.