Apparently my little tease about moving in the last post worked because after I came back from lunch I had three messages on gchat/AIM flashing at me with the message ‘WHERE ARE YOU MOVING??’

No, I am not leaving Knoxville. I am merely moving across town into a new place. (Tentatively, anyway. The lease hasn’t been signed yet).

Still, it’s a big deal to me. When I moved into my current place 11 months ago, I swore up and down that it would take a major life-changing event to get me to leave, which basically covered home purchase, marriage or relocation to another city. My townhouse was plenty big (and it still is) and in a decent location. I would absolutely love to own my own home again but my profession isn’t quite what we’d call stable right now, and I do not want to be faced with the pains of having to sell again anytime soon, especially for another loss.

And yet, I’m planning on moving again. Boy those words I’m now eating sure are tasty.

Ever since I was looking for a place to live a year ago, I’ve wanted a house with a fenced-in back yard and a porch and all the goodness that comes with it. And in the past few months as my life has changed and grown it’s become more centered around downtown, a good 20-minute drive away from my place (I know, I know, my Chicago friends are like … 20 minutes, what’s the big deal? … in Knoxville time, 20 minutes is an eternity). I find myself making that drive sometimes two and three times a day. Also, I had some really, really, really noisy neighbors move in next door. As I write, it’s 9:50 p.m. and they’re hammering on the walls.

Then the perfect house — three bedrooms, fenced-in back yard, big front porch, two story deck, historic downtown ‘hood — appeared on Craigslist.

Are any of those really, really good reasons to leave a place where I’m otherwise comfortable? I don’t know, but we still jumped at the chance of renting that perfect house.

Wait, we? Ahhh yes, there’s the other part of the equation. I plan on moving in with a roommate. The only child who has spent most of her time since graduating college living by herself, save six months of letting her newlywed friends rent her guest room and that ill-advised eight months of crashing with the Modern Ex, is moving in with a roommate.

This is where I’m a little nervous. I’m not so much worried about my to-be roommate; she’s one of the kindest people I’ve met in a long time. She’s easygoing yet responsible enough that living with her shouldn’t be a problem. Still, it’s a jump outside of my comfort zone of living alone. I always worry when that only-childness will rear its ugly head, though I think I’ve done a pretty good job of learning to tame it in recent years.

Oh, and moving. I am not so excited about the actual moving process. I’ve moved 12 times in the past nine years, which is what prompted the whole swearing I wouldn’t do it again anytime soon, save extenuating circumstance. It’s getting old. No, it done got old a long time ago.

But the thing of it is, I do get lonely sometimes at home on my own, and it will be nice to have a friend around. With the Modern Ex out of my life I don’t have the regular company in my place that I once had. I know it will help Lucy to have someone else around when I switch to my long work hours in the fall. It will be nice to not have to make a 30-minute round trip just to get a late-night drink with a friend. It will be nice to save a few hundred dollars a month (hopefully) by sharing rent. It will also be nice to have sidewalks and front porches re-introduced to my life. Those who know me well know sidewalks are a big freakin’ deal to me.

Also, it’s 10:15 p.m., and the hammering? STILL GOING ON.