Move is Four Letter Word

Move as defined: to pass from one place or position.  Or there is this definition: to advance or progress. I prefer the second definition.  I tried to keep progress in mind through the recent nightmare, it was difficult.

We progressed 2 times in 5 days.  I was ready to pull my hair out. I had several private hissy fits: public ones are so unbefitting.   I knew last February that July was going to be a dicey month.  There would be a gap between lease dates: 5 days.  The new company thought they could make it work.  In the end they could not, the new place was not ready.

On the 13^th , my 3 sons,  one of their girlfriends,  2 friends, and my Significant other (SIO) moved the contents of my townhouse into a warehouse.   There were over 200 boxes plus furniture and Barbie’s massive empire.  Three months of my OCD packing and hard work had paid off for just this type of situation.   My oldest son, recalled helping me on a previous move years ago when I was not in charge and remarked that it had not gone as smoothly as this one.   One load was left on the truck; this was marked to be moved Thursday evening, the first of the multiple moves. This too was a backup plan from months earlier.  Obviously, I am really bad at math: Saturday, Thursday and the next Saturday.  That does make 3, correct?   Ugh.

Saturday evening, My 2 youngest children and I began our 4 day camp in with my mother.  Now I love my mother, however staying with her was challenging; I had given up camping years ago.   We tripped over each, didn’t have our own space and waited impatiently for move in day.  Thursday the 18^th, another group of friends and my sons unloaded the truck.  Half way through, we found the bag of “fresh” produce that had been picked up the previous Saturday and packed without my knowledge.  After a week of  hot temperatures, it  had fully ripened into an odor that called to every wild beast for miles.

Saturday was warehouse day and we did it all again with a much smaller crew; your friends can only take so much.  I should do an Xfinity commercial like that now running with the guy trying to find help to move.   Amazingly, the work went faster than before with less people.  Perhaps it was the croissants from Our Daily Bread, one of the best bakeries in town, inspiring the crew to work more efficiently.

Since moving in, my OCD kicked into overdrive, there have been many late nights and early mornings spent unpacking.   Did I mention this entire month is a restricted time in my office?  We are not allowed to take time off.  It’s our busy time at the University.  Campus is swarming with 5000 new freshman and their parents, preparing for Fall.   Wondering around, maps in hand, gazing up at our lime stone buildings and dreaming of that first exam.   I can only dream of unpacking my next box .

Out of 200 boxes, the count is down to 20.  The kitchen is my worst nightmare.  It is waiting for my oldest daughter to arrive this week.  She wrote the book on organization.  She is the case study for OCD manifestations.  They say every generation improves on its gene pool right?   She will set it right and then some.

Now to the missing items:  Last night during dinner with my SIO, I was lamenting over missing items.  SIO, trying to calm me took me to the warehouse to show me that everything had in fact been removed.  “It must be in the house somewhere”.   He gave me an evil wink and told me “It could be in your mother’s museum.”   I slapped my forehead.  The place IS a museum.  I have stored a few things there, all carefully marked.  The thought of spending time precious unpacking time there is unnerving, knowing I could get distracting by cleaning up another mess.  Help!  I could be lost for hours cleaning up something I really didn’t intend to do.  Sometimes I just can’t stop myself. It’s the OCD kicking in and kicking my “you-know-what”. 

I have been asking myself how long I can live without these items. It can probably be done except for one.  The most important item missing, the desktop computer monitor is vital.  It is clearly marked, as were all the other items.  This fact alone leaves me baffled.  How did these things 3-5 boxes go AWOL?  I was careful to mark everything.  And yet now I cannot find them.  Everyone says in a move things go missing and you find them months later.  Months later… are you kidding me?  The monitor is needed now. 

I have been to mom’s several times in the past few days looking.  Today I will be there again and will not leave until I find the monitor.  There are two possible outcomes:  I will find the monitor or I will be laying in her front yard throwing a hissy fit just like I did when I was 3 years old.     I am my mother’s daughter.  If I am going to throw a fit, it’s best I do it in front of her

The new place is great.  It’s beautifully old, quirky and I can walk to work.  It’s right downtown where we love to spend time in our charming Burg.  We are going to be very happy here.

 Peace

NEPB

Looking Backward and Forward

I am moving.  I have lived in this townhouse for 7 years.  I have been packing, donating unwanted belongings and cleaning for months; these efforts have intensified the last 2 weeks.  Memories swam around me like  fire flies at sunset.

Every drawer emptied brings a new memory: pictures long lost are now found, theater tickets from a favorite performance, and a sweater thought lost, finally found.    This home has been my solace from many trials.  I returned to my bedroom retreat upstairs after life altering events.  I lay awake night after night after my diagnosis with stage 3 breast cancer.  I wondered how my children and I would exist.  It was a time of extreme uncertainty. I returned there after every treatment for 2 years: hunkering down in my bunker  with  a supply of meds, bottles of Gatorade (the mere site of Gatorade now makes me ill), a copious amount of pillows and endured with the help of my children. 

I took a bottle of champagne home and “cleaned house” to celebrate my divorce,  a process I started during treatment and finalized at the end of my 2 year run.   It was a giant victory ; Made more victorious that I had accomplished it during that ordeal  and had the fortitude to escape the abuse.  A single woman alone gathering the strength to do it alone with 3 children under 18, imagining the future of a positive life… What was I thinking?   I made it work better than anything previous.

My 3 youngest children and I have built a live here together over the past years.  We huddled together when here when my father died.  He used to drop by unexpectedly for visits to see what we were doing.  We knew he was really coming by to see our German Shepard Kate.  Daddy had a soft spot for German Shepherds.  I am sure if you look close you can find some of Kate’s hair somewhere. Kate left us not long after Daddy, 4 years ago. 

There were the 4^th of July cookouts we used to have with our neighbors. It was always here because here because I had the biggest backyard and was closest to the pool. Do you think they were using me? Well yes, but who cares.  We had always had a good time.  I remember trying to explain to a group of international students about flag cake: the cake with the blueberries and strawberries?  They just didn’t get that we were eating a symbol of our cake.  Crazy Americans.

My 9 year old daughter was toddler in this home.  She colored on the walls, learned to swim in the pool and  learned to ride a bike behind the house.  Her memories are the strongest.  This is where her real life memory began. When she is a grown woman she will look back and this will be the first place she remembers.  I worked hard to keep the memories good.  I hope I succeeded.

We are moving to downtown.  A smaller space, I have one less child at home now and one more graduates next year.  When I considered this new home I looked at the possibilities:  downtown, walking distance to my office, a park/ playground in my back yard and several other perks.  I was doing my forward thinking.  It all fell into place.   It was time. 

There is always a time.  It is sometimes difficult to look ahead and see into the future, do the planning, packing and preserving you have to have a little faith.  You have to let some things go. Let the past be gone and step into a new beginning.  There are so many other things that come to mind when packing up your home and looking back.   If you take too much time looking back it slows down your forward progress.  Life is about forward progress, moving on to new things, improvement.  And this is where we are going, forward.

Peace.  NEPB