Living on the Boulevard

There hasn’t been a morning yet where I didn’t wake up marvelling at the first thing I saw. I have to confess - I love the view! Love it!

Albert Park Lake. The still reflections of trees on the water. The bay beyond it blending into the sky on the horizon. The Spirit of Tasmania sailing by most mornings. I can see the masts of docked boats swaying in the wind. The street below, cars and city workers, rowers on the lake and joggers around it – busy, yet none of its noise detectable from my bedroom window on the 9th floor. It’s a live landscape canvas, and I couldn’t be more excited to be a part of it!

This is my 4th morning at my new apartment, and I’m still pinching myself in case none of this is real. I’m of course well aware that this is not a designer penthouse, nor a luxury mansion, nor are the furnishings antique, state-of-the-art or priceless. But I know this space that I now call home, is all my own.

I didn’t think I’d be so happy to be chin-high in debt. I also didn’t think that I could be so willing to sign away every last cent of my savings from working in Japan for the deposit. (I closed my bank account with change that jingles in my pocket. I think it was $0.75.) I didn’t think I could be so content wearing my old wardrobe, mending my shoes, making my own lunches and putting that gorgeous dress back on the racks, but I come home every day and I know why I do it. I wake up to the view every morning, and I can’t remember why it’s even a question.