After 24 years, I've finally moved out

Well...

I've moved out of home!

This is something I have wanted for the longest time, and I couldn't be more thrilled that it's finally happening. For years, moving out was one of those things that existed somewhere in the future. Something I'd do when I graduated, had a full-time job, had enough money or finally felt like a proper adult.

Turns out, there isn't really a moment where someone taps you on the shoulder and says, "Congratulations! You're officially ready to move out now." At some point, you just have to do it. And apparently, my time is now.

I really have to give it to Ruby, who gave me the push I needed. She started sending me rooms she'd found on Facebook, I became invested and before I knew it, I'd thrown myself into the Sydney rental market.

If you've never looked for a place to live in Sydney before, imagine trying to buy Taylor Swift tickets while speed dating. The moment a room goes up, there are already thirty people interested. I spent weeks scrolling through listings and sending messages that all sounded exactly the same.

"Hi! I'm Sarah. I'd love to come and have a look... blah blah blah."

I've never tried so hard to convince complete strangers that I am, in fact, a normal person who knows how to clean up after herself.

I was lucky though. While I applied for a few places, I only inspected one... and got it!

Now that the stressful part is over, a slightly more concerning realisation has hit me: I actually have to look after myself now. I have to buy groceries, pay bills, wash my own sheets, remember when the bins go out and figure out which household items apparently don't just magically replenish themselves.

And, most importantly, I have to learn how to cook.

According to Ruby, frozen pizzas don't count as cooking. Personally, I think putting something in an oven, selecting a temperature and successfully removing it without burning the house down demonstrates several important culinary skills, but apparently the bar is higher than that.

I'm excited, but I'm also nervous because I've lived at home my entire life. There's always been food in the fridge, toilet paper in the cupboard and someone nearby who knows what to do when something in the house starts making a suspicious noise. Now I have to become one of those people who knows things — or, at the very least, become very good at Googling them.

The first half of this year sucked. Like... hard. I graduated, entered that weird post-uni limbo and spent a lot of time feeling like everyone else was moving forward while I was standing still.

So this feels like my first real win in a long time.

I don't have my forever career yet and I definitely don't have every part of my life figured out. I still call my mum when I can't find something that's been sitting directly in front of me the entire time. But I'm working a lot more hours, I've saved and I'm ready for more independence.

Although my first attempt at decorating has suggested otherwise.

I've started decorating my room and already... disaster has struck.

I decided to get some of those cute, aesthetic floating shelves to elevate the look of my room. Since I'm not allowed to use nails, I bought some acrylic ones that hang using adhesive hooks. $50 later, I had three shelves (which, by the way, were already damaged on the corners) and proceeded to hang them up anyway.

It was looking so good. Honestly, I was so proud of myself. Unfortunately, I got a little cocky and decided to lean on one of the shelves while placing one more thing on it.

BANG.

The hook snapped, the shelf came crashing down and everything went flying. Worst of all, my snow globe from London smashed. I stood there in complete silence, jaw on the floor, staring at the crime scene for a solid ten seconds before figuring out what to do next.

There was glass and water everywhere. I'm trying to save my other trinkets, clean everything up and somehow avoid slicing my foot open in the process. Absolute chaos.

Once everything was under control, I decided the shelves were coming down. The adhesive hooks are literally designed to come off without damaging the paint, so surely this part would be easy.

Apparently not.

I pulled one off and took a chunk of the wall paint with it.

So, to recap: I spent $50 on damaged shelves, smashed my London snow globe, covered my floor in glass and water, and ripped paint off the wall of the house I had only just moved into.

All in the name of making my room look cute.

If this isn't adulthood, I don't know what is.

Sez