In the Venn Diagram of things that are both terrifying and true, the fact that I just meandered through my first post-graduate week is pretty firmly in the middle of the circle. And it wasn’t even like I had a boring, quiet week to help ease the transition–I managed to attend the (lovely, tasteful) wedding of a (lovely, tasteful) friend, pack the vast majority of my belongings, and haul my life across town.

So that’s been fun.

But in between assembling furniture and crowding six to a hotel room in south Georgia, a weird thing has happened. I’ve begun to gather glimpses of my looming adult life. The end of moving is in sight, and that means that soon enough I will have substantial free time in the mornings. I could take up running! Or sit in my local coffee shop and flirt with baristas before work! My tiny studio, which seems Parisian if you click your heels together three times and just believe, is within walking distance of Atlanta’s largest park, most famous art museum, and (to my knowledge) only botanical garden.

Y’all, I signed up for an improv class. On weekends. To expand my social circle. Truly, this is a brave new world.

I feel like I am on an excellent but still terrifying precipice. One in which I have to develop hobbies other than conning my friends into helping me move my belongings (followed by idly contemplating taking up minimalism because it turns out, things are heavy).

And I’m excited to do that away from the same little Atlanta neighborhood that I’ve called home for more or less 10 years. (Decatur, it’s been real, but I need to find new places to buy whimsical spoon rests and salt shakers shaped like owls.)

Tonight will be the first night I spend in my new apartment, complete with Ikea bedframe. If I write again next week, it will hopefully be about all the new and exciting things I have done in my time here. (If I don’t, assume that the Ikea bedframe didn’t hold, and check Twitter to make sure I’m still around.)