30 day notice

It's official. Our landlord has been notified that our apartment will be vacated, cleaned, and our keys will be turned in by January 26th. Neither of us have jobs, we don't have a place to live, but we're headed north to Portland. The strange part is that none of this feels strange at all. We pride ourselves on our spontaneity, and somehow always figure things out without much anxiety. 

We've survived poverty, nine months of being on crutches followed closely by nine months of vomiting daily, unemployment, a wedding with our dysfunctional families,  depression, and homelessness. Things like finding jobs and moving stuff, a dog, and a baby are simple tasks. Blindly starting over only five hours away from here does not phase us. 

The hard part is trying to decide whether living in a place with unsurpassed outdoor recreational activities, near an amazing friend from the Midwest, is still better than going back to our hometown to be near family and even more friends. So far, all we can do is move onward. Attempting to find a place to fit in. Giving our dream of living "out West" another chance before possibly dragging ourselves with our tail between our legs back to a place we never could appreciate when we lived there.

Our relocation has taught us so much about ourselves and the people in our lives. We have no regrets. Let's get packing.