7 posts tagged “moving”
Farmers market. Clean. Pack. Clean. CLEAN. PACK. CLEAN! Snooze comes over! Strawberries! Reisling! Baguette and goat cheese!
My livingroom is a governor sanctioned Disaster Area. Someone is supposed to be coming to get the furniture that the Dwarf Star doesn't want to "deal with" when he gets back (he left already to visit his family and he moves out after I move out) so the couch and loveseat are out in the middle of the floor READY TO BE TAKEN, WHERE ARE YOU, GUY WHO IS SUPPOSED TO TAKE THEM? Laundry is folded all over the place but smells really nice. Lavander! Don't get me started on the Dwarf Star's basement lair. He didn't clean it before he left and there are beer bottles all over the place from the last few times his girlfriend was over. Snooze peeked into the lair and said it looked like rehab waiting to happen. My bedroom is being dismantled. Picture frames everywhere. Boxes. On boxes. My cookingware is piled in the livingroom.
My kitchen, however, is spotless, because there is no way in hell I'm going to let fucking ants take over. You hear me, ants? You stay out of my kitchen or I will spray you with Clorox and set you on fire!*
The spider on the porch can stay, and I'm letting the squirrels have the basement.
*One time, Bubbles told me a story about how he was reading a book when he felt something on his neck. He swiped it off, and it was an ant, and he was so bizarrely pissed off that he grabbed a lighter and set the creature on fire. "And then I realized I've been living alone too long."
No one prepares you for waking up in the middle of the night, eight days before your 25th birthday, packing to move and preparing to make a career change, flipping the hell out because you are young and scared and in a lot of school-related debt.
During the daylight, everything is ok and I can reason with myself ("You're young and well-educated and you do have a summer job and perhaps a more permanent job.") but at 3am, well, there be dragons.
Easter weekend, my family went to dinner at the house of my mom's best friend from high school, who lives in the same city as my brother. Over dinner, I talked about my impending move and lamented the fact that I'd have to move my library again -- a back-breaking exercise. My mom's friend suggested that I buy a bunch of twine and pack the books in managable bundles. This struck me as an excellent idea, since in twined bundles of books would totally fit in the giant cavernous trunk of my car and NOT give my parents each their own personal stroke as we bring them up the stairs of my new place. Being done with my paper and halfway-through end-of-semester grading, I decided to dedicate some time getting started on this.
The good news is that I've bundled 11 bundles-worth of books -- two whole shelves!
The bad news is I have ten shelves.
Hmmph.
Well, at least my diningroom table has a buyer. That's one less thing to take with me...
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It was teacher appreciation day yesterday, and I got a mailbox full of cards from students and parents alike. Everyone said something heart-tuggingly sweet and wished me good luck on my move and made me briefly wonder why I was moving eight hours away. The Russian even gave me an orchid and a card that told me I was "AWESOME!" I read through all the cards and had a little cry and a little laugh and then I graded.
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Yesterday evening, the Dwarf Star and I were walking to our local liquor store to get fuel for a grading session. Along the way, a man called to us from the porch of the Fellowship house (I don't know what it fellowships). He looked a little roughed up. He told us he was just waiting for his brother to come along, but his brother wouldn't be along until morning, and he couldn't walk because he'd been jumped a few days earlier, and handing the Dwarf Star a wad of bills, asked if he would pick him up two half-pints of vodka and some chewing tobacco. Dwarf Star, good citizen, did this service. The dude was still on the porch this afternoon when I walked to campus, talking to another person. I guess his brother is running really late.
Whee! I just finished and turned in my paper! It's the last one I'll have to write for -- ever, I think. But it was an enjoyable paper and worth the hours of work and thought. The paper has been at the forefront of my mind for about three weeks, and now that it's done I can start to think about everything else I have to do as I approach the move date. The problem, however, with reaching one summit is the realization that you're not even halfway up the mountain. Everything leads to another thing -- you know -- grade, grade some more, finish the play at the middle school, get utilities of the house out of my name and into the Dwarf Star's name, return library books, pack. Pack. PACK.
It all culminates in panic and a strong desire for a nap.
Edited to add my endorsed candidates for the next election:
I'm strongly considering walking to my gym. It's about two miles away from my house, and I usually drive, but my car is blocked in by the Dwarf Star's and he's still passed out downstairs. Plus, it's so nice out it would be a good idea to warm up with a two mile walk before I do whatever else. Hmm.
Thursday was the Decemberists concert with Tex. It was GREAT! Colin Meloy is so adorable, with his baby face and his big vocabulary. His "concert speak" was pretty hilarious, too -- he told us about a dream he had where one of the other band members told him they should sing a song about an Easter Bunny holding its heart on the outside of its body, and another band member saying, "We do write a lot of songs about gypsies." It was one of those concerts where the audience gets involved -- singing the "ladedas" on 16 Military Wives, and pretending to get swallowed by a whale during The Mariner's Revenge Song. After the concert, Tex and I got Chinese food and watched Upright Citizens Brigade. Ahh.
Friday night was the Dirty Hippie Party for another friend's birthday. Everyone got pretty drunk, including the Dwarf Star, who did a mock strip-tease to "Feed My Frankenstein," pretended he was Morrissey, serenaded his lovely housemate with a Tom Petty song, talked loudly about the musical he and I are writing (a biblical musical about the book of Jonah, the first song being "A Whale of a Tale") and set a small but controlled fire in the front yard. When the night was over for him, he shouted, "Bye everyone, I'm walking home now!" and, once outside the door, said, "Where do I live?" So I said goodbye also and ran after him. Lucky I did, because he first walked in the wrong direction and second missed the turn on our street. I have a feeling if I hadn't walked with him, he would have just passed out in someone's yard for the night. He didn't make it to his room, instead collapsing on the couch. I gave him an extra blanket from my room, left a glass of water and a bottle of asprin on the coffee table, and proceeded to drink a gallon of water -- did I mention I was drunk, too? But I was still "take care of myself and others" drunk. I managed to avoid a hangover, though, so woo-hoo!
I just counted. 37 days until I'm 25, 42 days until I move. And my mom's birthday is tomorrow.
