You know, I may not get a gazillion comments like the Cool Kid Bloggers, but I do enjoy the comments from The Loyal Few.
I started thinking about how many times I've moved in my adult life. Let's see - I think I have these dates right, but it was a long time ago:
1979 - MD to CA
1980 - CA to MD
1982 - MD to FL
1991 - FL to NC
1993 - NC to FL
1994 - apartment on one side of Orlando to apartment on the other
1996 - 2nd apartment to this house. And of course, beginning with my husband's diagnosis with renal cancer in the summer of 2001, all I could do was hold on and ride the crazy. So, 14+ years of living has to be addressed, more than anywhere else in my life, and I'm doing this solo.
So it's been 14.5 years since I've moved, and this will be my first solo move, ever. I'm a really good mover. I can organize the hell out of a move, but out of practice much? Doing all this shit solo? To a new place, a place I love to pieces, but is nonetheless NEW? And I have not only my own household of sentimental stuff, but all the stuff I took on when my parents died? And I am not a fresh young 30 year old of the type the world welcomes on new adventures? Yeah. Nothing at all to this.
This is a whole new world of Ruthless Disposal of Things That Don't Matter - and I'm not just talking about tangible things. It's a daily review, and so very draining.
Yes it's crazy, but I have no doubt that I should do it. I'm excited and can't wait to get on with it. I'm just freaking at 3 a.m. about all that has to come together in the next weeks/months to pull it off. Moves since 1993 were done via sweat and U-Haul. I can't do that - I'm not capable of doing that solo. I have to pay Real Movers, because loading on this end is an issue, and I'm not about to drive a U-Haul and tow a vehicle with two little dogs riding shotgun all the way to Asheville. But that's for November. I'm still dealing with September's to do list. I just want to click my heels three times and be relocated to my new home, because hell, this is a lot of tedious, nit-picky, expensive, not at all fun work.
Matronly Mother of the Bride Dresses! What the hell is up with that? Why, oh why, do these bridal companies have these MOB dresses that make me want to run away screaming? I am not trying to compete with my daughter at all - dear God, she's 5'9" and a size 4 and will be regal and gorgeous in her strapless gown and tiara and veil, and I just don't want to embarrass her by showing up in a shapeless shiny satiny sack with a baggy jacket over it. OMG, The Official MOB Dresses - I wouldn't wear them to a Halloween party.
So, yeah, I am not sleeping all that well, and I am feeling chased by the flying monkeys of all the things I have to get done and checked off the Done list before I can relax and enjoy. But second thoughts? None.