and in the mornings you can see them walking

The Mamas & the Papas: 12:30 (Young Girls Are Coming to the Canyon)

I can hear the bells from three churches echoing up Hennepin Avenue. It must be one of the first hot days, because I can feel the sun burning my neck, but I'm still wearing my yellow spring jacket. This would make it the end of April.

I live in a small house in a liberal, ex-hippie, co-op-y neighborhood of Minneapolis. One roommate is a fragile, sweet, funny actor. One roommate cycles from bad mood to bad mood, until she moves out abruptly and her place is taken by a guy who clomps through the house. The third roommate is a controlling, uptight, selfish, spoiled vegan.

Obviously, something is about to go down.

It is the last straw. It is having to do everyone's dishes, even though I am rarely there long enough to dirty my own. It's getting glares for tossing moldy cups of coffee down the drain. It's being the only one who knows to clean the garbage disposal. It's coming home to find out someone's been in my room again without my permission.

So I spend a few hours in a completely other area of the city and call landlords. My lease isn't up until August, but just knowing there is somewhere else I can go is helpful. When I break the news to my roommates, the controlling one goes ballistic, accusing me of shirking my duty (even after I say I'm not going to break the lease and leave them in the lurch--I'm going to pay both leases).

On June 15th, my brother, my dad, and two of my friends help me. We move all my stuff (which I've been packing for the past month and a half) in record time: just over 3 hours. I don't go back. Apparently the roommate was pretty shocked to find out I'd actually gotten out of there.

Sometimes it is good to be reminded that I am the agent of change in my own life.

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I used to live in New York City/ Everything there was dark and dirty/ Outside my window was a steeple/ With a clock that always read twelve-thirty//Young girls are coming to the canyon/ And in the mornings you can see them walking/ I can no longer keep my blinds drawn/ And I can't keep myself from talking.