It has come time to retire the Minifridge blog.  By Friday evening, everyone currently living here will be gone.  Soon after, I imagine someone else will be living here.

I'm actually not depressed at all to be leaving this apartment.  I'll miss Nate and Oafy, but the apartment itself?  Its time to move on from here.

This has been my home for a year.  And what a year.

I asked Teejay to marry me the day we decided we were going to move into this place.  Now we don't speak to each other, as every time we do leaves us both pissed off.

When we moved, Moof was our third roommate, filled with theories of financial independence and doing something with his life beyond play World of Warcraft.  However, it turned out that those ideas would remain purely that: just ideas, never acted on.  Another bitter disappointment.

When I moved, I had had alcohol once, and never touched it at all.  It was here that I got drunk enough to pass out on the couch, weaping bitter tears after things went to hell with Teejay.

When I moved in, I was headed back to school full time, to finally get a degree, maybe go teach, and get a stable job, a decent income, and a stable life.  Now I'm in school part time, and still about evenly split between going back full time and saying fuck all, I'm writing.

When we moved, Wolvie was bound and determined to program a video game, a project that has been pushed back again and again.  I have come to wonder whether, in the end, it will be as mercurial as Moof's independence.

So very much to be bitter about in the past year.

And yet...

When I moved in, I was hardly writing.  Now hardly a day goes by that I'm not writing or editing *something*.

For years, I've wanted to take busses all over Denver to see what I could find, and walk huge distances through parts of the city I've never seen.  Finally, I have begun to do so.

I started out stable, knowing precisely what I thought I wanted.  All of that is gone.  And yet, in dragging myself back out of that I've learned things that I never would have otherwise, and in the end I think I'm as happy now as I was moving in.

In the end, I can't be bitter.  My life now is very much what I've always dreamed it could be.  The crap of the first half year I lived here now seems like a wierd dream, and waking up has been wonderful.

Of course, I can't speak for my roommates.  I know without a doubt, though, that life in this apartment has not been anything that I had hoped it would be.  

And yet, for all that, it's been a damn good year.

It may not have been the year when everything went right.  Frankly, it might have been the year when *nothing* went right.  But fucking up this much just means ruling out 5 more ways of how not to do things.

This week, I move into a new place.  I can take what I've learned from here and maybe, with some luck, I can avoid fucking up in all those ways.  Begin fucking up in new and exciting ways instead.

The new place may or may not have a blog.  The total failure to update regularly on this one suggests that we may not bother.

Either way... thanks for reading, and adios.