Tonight, I'm cleaning my apartment.
During a semester, especially one where things aren't going well, I walk in the door, set the backpack down, set the mail down, and forage for food/get ready for bed/start worrying about tomorrow. So my apartment tends to get a bit cluttered and disorganized by the end of a semester. This summer, I've been busy both working and sorting out the debris and wreckage from the semester, so I haven't gotten to that spring cleaning stage, yet.
I'm moving in August, so it's natural that my landlord wants to show my apartment to people who might want to move in once I'm moved out. Only, they want to show my apartment tomorrow morning. I'm a little freaked out by this. I don't like the idea of people I don't know coming in and looking around my apartment.
It is true also that I do not feel safe having two or three people walking into my home that I do not know, and that I did not invite.
This kind of thing shouldn't freak me out, I tell myself, and yet it does. My relationship with this apartment runs pretty deep-- when I moved in here, I was leaving a house that was about to be foreclosed with no heat, hot water, or electricity. This apartment has been my one place in the world where I was king, where I could shut the rest of the world out, where I could retreat to in time of need. My castle, in other words. Now, it's something else, it's a place to leave for somewhere else. My two moves before moving to this place were moves under duress. I had to move because of decisions that were made by other people, so I don't have good memories of moving.
So, tonight, I still have to clean my bathroom. Tomorrow will come, and the showing will happen, and I will be anxious about it and then it will be in the past. That thought doesn't make anything easier, but it's still true.