“You just got out of school; don’t you want to wait a while?” was my mother’s comment upon me voicing my intention to move out and get my own place. I was a little worried since I’ve never lived by myself before (I had no intention of getting a roommate), but I was definitely ready to get out of Mom’s house. Not that I don’t love her–of course I do–but now that I’m an adult, her mothering was getting to be a bit too much. With Matthew still a teen, Mom kept trying to treat me like one, too, and I was having none of that.
So I went on on the hunt for my own place and found out that old Mrs. Wozny had a little one bedroom, one bathroom house for sale that would be just perfect for me! She sold it to me for an exceptionally good price and wished me the best of luck in my new home.
Now that I’m here, I can not only say that I definitely made the right decision, I can also say that moving out is probably the best thing I’ve ever done, and I’m absolutely loving the freedom of it.
It didn’t look like much when I first saw it–in fact it looked pretty small and cramped–but once I got moved in, I realized that it’s just the right size for just me. It came with a furnished kitchen, laundry room, and bathroom, but that’s it; the rest of the house I’d have to furnish myself, and the backyard was a project all unto itself.
I was pretty sure that Mrs. Wozny had never done anything with the backyard at all, seeing how barren it was. It looked like, once the house was furnished, I was going to have to put some serious simoleons into sprucing it up.
I didn’t have much as far as funds go; what extra Mom had, she’d spent on my graduation present and birthday presents for Matthew and me. I wasn’t about to ask her to help me out. Luckily, she had let me take my car with me when I moved, so I was covered in that department. After buying the house, I had 3,000 simoleons left over from what I got for graduation and from my inheritance from Grandma, so I bought a bed and nightstand, dresser, kitchen table and chairs, a bookcase, and a desk for my laptop, along with a couple of lamps and a laundry hamper. I had to get everything second-hand and discounted, but my little home was looking a bit more furnished.
Since I was going to have bills to pay now, my part-time work at the tutoring house wasn’t going to cut it. I headed over to Truelong to hand in my resignation to the tutoring house and walk next-door to the school and apply for a real job.
As it turned out, they wanted someone with more experience than I have for their teaching positions, but they did offer me a job as an room aide to let me get some classroom hours under my belt, and I’m really looking forward to working with the kids.
On the way back home, I noticed a new family moving into a house down the street from mine! I made a mental note to check back later after they’d gotten settled and go introduce myself.
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Going to work my first day, I was incredibly nervous. Sure, I’d worked at the tutoring house for a while, but these were real school situations; what if I didn’t do a good job? My whole future as a teacher hinged on this.
My work day started off early at 8:00 AM, and I monitored the kids while they were out at morning recess before school started for the day. When the bell rang and everyone headed to their classrooms, I went to room K-A, Mr. Carlton Dodge’s kindergarten class. As it turned out, working in the classroom came completely naturally to me. I did some flashcard games with the kids, read Angie K. Hanby and that Smelly Old School Bus to them, and helped Mr. Dodge run the workshops for the day; I was in charge of the art workshop, and helped each of the kids paint a caterpillar at the easel. The time flew by, and before I knew it, it was already time to go home for the day.
Unfortunately, things at home did not going as smoothly as my day at work went.
I came home to find my first set of bills in the mailbox and barely had enough money to pay them with just five simoleons to spare. I then went inside, changed out of my work clothes, and attempted to make dinner but, instead, made enemies with the stove.
Cooking is not really my forte, and I guess I just proved that further. Maybe I should have paid more attention all those times when Mom tried to teach me how to cook? Oh well, into the trash can it went, and I had microwaved lasagna instead.
To round out my evening, the toilet revolted against me twice in one night.
I went to sleep exhausted, hoping that I wasn’t going to have as big of problems with the rest of house as I’d had with the stove and the toilet.
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The next week passed as somewhat of a blur. Everything continued going well at work, but unfortunately, I wasn’t having any better luck with the stove or toilet. I’d pretty much given up trying to actually cook anything myself and had resigned myself to eating only salads and microwaved meals.
When Saturday rolled around, I took a walk down the street to the house where the new family had moved in.
I walked up the porch and rang the bell. Much to my surprise, a cute guy about my age answered the door.
His name was Brandon Panos, and I instantly got butterflies in my stomach just by shaking his hand; any residual memories of Oscar were quickly disappearing. Brandon had the sweetest smile, and I just couldn’t get enough looking at him. We both stood there for a moment staring at each other until he seemed to realize that he should probably say something and invited me inside.
His family was huge! I’d never met someone from such a large family. He introduced me to his mom and dad, Jacqueline and Keith; his brothers–Dyllon, Andrew, Matthew, and Justin; and his sisters, Kathryn and Amy. Brandon was the oldest child in the family. They’d all apparently just moved here from Twinbrook so that Brandon’s father could find work. I spent the rest of the day at his house and went back again on Sunday. I really loved spending time with him and thought I might be falling for him pretty hard, but we’d just have to wait and see what happens.
The Taylor Legacy 