Well, it’s moving day. Since I’m moving only about three blocks away, I carted a few things over last night, cleaned the new place, got the kitchen ready, decided where to tell the movers to put what today, and yadda yadda yadda.
I opened my eyes just before 6am, though I thought I might want to sleep in a little. I stretched and thought about the new place and how excited I am to move into it and get it together and presentable. It seems like the kind of place that will feel homey quickly. Still, I’m not one for living a boxed live terribly well, so I unpack fast. I wondered about all of the things that are ahead for me while in this new place. How long will it be my address? What will I write there? How many major things will happen to me while I live there? Will I say one day “Oh, that’s where I was when I heard about (blank)?”
Then, I thought about this place I’m leaving and the things I did living here. Without being sad in the least, mind you, only pleased as I recounted things. I got some great tattoos while living here. I sold Three Fallen Women, I edited it and I returned to this apartment after each trip away to promote it. I started this blog from here. The Fixx Reading Series started and managed to get planned each month from here. I threw some lovely dinner parties, had nice people over, had some nice Shabbes dinners, enjoyed how quiet the apartment could get during the day when the 9-to-5 neighbors were all away, and, really, even less than happy things have their place here, and shaped my experience here in their own ways, too. It’s annoying, but still quite funny every time I hear my upstairs neighbor’s rhythmless and vocal sex life. I got hate-crimed, twice, once accurately and once inaccurately, which was lame but funny since my car took the brunt of the ire. I painted the kitchen by hand the morning my father had a heart attack almost three years ago. I waited to hear about his surgery miles and miles away when I couldn’t be with him and, needing something to do, I started to paint, aiming only to cut in the trim and painted and painted and soon the whole big kitchen was painted by hand. My cat cut his tail and flipped blood all over the place as I tried to catch him, then he had to wear a lampshade collar as it healed. And, if you think I’ll forget about this shower anytime soon, you my friend, are mistaken– it’s not everyday a woman has an shower that turns into an ice rink every winter and comes with it’s own ghost. I watched my street turn into a river. I got the rental car of doom that one time, which shot me across a few lanes of the Dan Ryan and up an exit ramp. Rotten at the time, mind you, but funny stories now, so all positive on at least one level.
Anyway, the new place is happy and sunny and I can’t wait to see not only how my time there unfolds but what I make of my days there.
Now, my cat has eaten every single corner off of every single box because he knows soething is going on, so I think it might be time to do a nice over before the movers get here and then get ready to haul him to his new digs. I brought a few more fragile kitcheny things over early this morning and noticed some birds congregating outside a window, joined by more birds, then shift change, and more birds…. Birds! This cat can spend hours with wide eyes watching birds outside of windows. My cat is iddly and unnerved by all of this moving right now, but he’s about to hit the bird-watching jackpot.
But before that, time for one last computer backup.