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At six o’clock in the morning I woke up. Excited out of my mind, I had slept very lightly. My hands caught the covers and threw them off of myself as I hurried to turn off my alarm and take my morning pills. After that was finished I quickly got dressed and began stripping the bed and packing the last of my things. I could hardly wait. 

By 10am I had six helpers. By 12pm everything was loaded and ready to be hauled from my apartment to my house. By one everything was inside and by three everyone from the morning haul was fed and heading home and another set of friends came to help me unload boxes. 

I was grateful for the extra hands and more relaxed atmosphere. I was running on fumes and intimidated by the large personalities that had come and gone. So we unloaded boxes, and when we were tired of that, we shot pool for the rest of the night, with rum and cokes in hand. 
As I lay in my master bedroom it all feels unreal. All I had left to do was finish with some cleaning at the apartment and to drop my keys in the drop box. This was my life now. This house. This neighborhood. It was so surreal, yet still…it felt like home. 

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