my nomadic life

Here's something that is distracting me from my work: I don't know where I'm going to live in three months. Ever since I started college I have had to think of my dwelling places as temporary. I even lived in the same dorm room for three years (with a wonderful roommate who I miss and who reads this blog and who also doesn't know where she is going to live in the near future, so here's a ton of sympathy and love going out!) but every summer we had to move out. All of our stuff. And then I moved into a new dorm with a new roommate and hated it. So then I moved off campus. And then I went to grad school. And got married. And went to grad school some more. I'm getting to the end of my third year here and I've lived in three places. And now I have to move. And I don't even know what town I'm moving to. It sucks.

Of course, some people manage to be in school and occupy the same domicile for an extended period of time, but I think that's the minority. When we rented the house we are in now, we went in knowing it was only for a year--didn't even try to pretend otherwise. We will look for a new place with the hope of staying there for a while, but my husband's job may change--actually, we hope it will change because he is bored and unhappy--and that may necessitate yet another move.

It seems like this moving every year will have to stop eventually, if for nothing else but our own psychological well-being. I am ready to settle, but at this point I can't feel totally settled anywhere because I know that school will end at some point--terminal degree, and all--and there will be another move. I am really prepared to feel supremely satisfied with my first job out of the gate and to just stay there until I die. But how often does that happen, really?