Not really goodbye.

A week ago today, I moved out of the Blue Door Lounge and graduated with my Bachelor’s degree (holy shit!). The moving out process was an absolute nightmare. With so many people graduating and our landlord refusing to return our calls, we were left scrambling. Less than 48 hours before our scheduled move out, the house was a complete disaster zone. Snappa tables, beer, and dirty dishes littered the common rooms. All of the furniture sat unmoved, and all of the food in the fridge sat rotting. Travis had friends over that night, and in the hour that the rest of us left the house, they managed to deface our staircase with permanent profane graffiti. We all knew that there was no way we were going to get our deposit back, any attempts at fixing up the place would have been in vain. Most of the doors no longer worked, and there were so many holes in the walls, stains and burn marks on the carpet, and mold in the bathrooms. Trevor and I surveyed the wreckage on Friday night, not sure how to attack it.  We pondered the value of the myriad of items around us and ultimately decided to simply throw everything out. Wasteful, I know, but without many people there to claim things, and with those there not wanting to have anything to do with them, we didn’t have much of a choice. So, one by one, we began to throw things off of the balcony  and into the trash area down below. Couches, tables, pots and pans, dishes, coffee makers, toaster ovens, blankets, pillows, rotten food, empty beer bottles — it all went tumbling down into the pile, making loud, splintering sounds as it hit the pavement. Passerbys cheered at our destruction, and suddenly, cleaning the house became fun.

We were pretty certain that our landlord would charge us a ridiculous fee for the mess we left, so the next morning we were all relieved when the garbage truck stopped in front of the house. Everyone ran down the stairs and began to frantically carry things to the truck. The garbage men stopped and helped us carry some of the big stuff, including the number of couches that sat on the lawn, over to the crushing jaws of the trash compactor. We spent a good twenty minutes moving everything over, ultimately tipping the workers for being so patient and for all of their help. We sighed in relief as the garbage truck pulled away.

We got the last few things out of the house, took a look around, and called it as good as it was going to get. We didn’t have time to do any actual cleaning, but it was a miracle just to have gotten everything out. We said our rushed goodbyes to a house filled with countless memories and filed out the door. I had three hours until graduation at point, and still so much to do.

 

But it’s not really goodbye to the Blue Door Lounge. Since I’m currently couch-surfing, it turns out I may need to sublease a spot from one of the boys in the house. I’m sure I’ll visit them numerous times throughout the year either way. Those who no longer live there will come over to party — we’ll trash the place, and then (and this is the best part), we’ll leave.

The Blue Door Lounge will live on…and so will this blog.

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One thought on “Not really goodbye.

  1. It was nice running into you at Newman!! Thanks for the heads up on Word Press I like your point of view and perspective! Hope to see you around the Island….

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