"I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date".I feel like I've fallen down the rabbit hole.
I’ve lost track of time, since everything has become a blur since Sunday, the day I moved.
Sunday was the official move-in date; though I’ve been moving my stuff in gradually for a month. As of the other night, my bed and body were finally in the new place.
I slept well Sunday night, whether it was overwhelming fatigue or a sense of relief, I don’t know. I’m more inclined to think it was the few glasses of wine I had with the neighbours at the old place before I left.
When I was doing the A-Z Blogging Challenge in April I knew I was going to be moving. I look back and realize how the impending move flavoured my posts, like ‘Purge’ and ‘By the Yard’.
Downsizing is not easy, especially for an artisan hoarder like me. I spent days pulling out fabric, yarn, paper and other craft supplies from every nook and cranny in my apartment. There were lots of surprises, like ‘I remember what I was making this for’ and ‘I knew that was in there somewhere’.
I have a lot of ideas, but poor follow through, it seems.
It might be hard for others to understand this moving by bits and pieces, but it works for me. I have a limited amount of strength and energy, so my whole life is lived in bits and pieces. I needed to move the most important things first, and then sorting through the rest became easier.
I have my bookcases, most of my books, and my angel collection so I’m happy. I gave up my computer and desk for the laptop, but still have to figure out what I’m going to do about the printer.
I gave up my art table, but that wasn’t a big sacrifice, as I’d used the kitchen table for years.
Funny, I was able to keep the blog on schedule while I was packing and purging, but just couldn’t get to it the last couple of days. I think the stress of the last month has finally gotten to me.
I want to thank my kids, for all their assistance and their cooperation. I know packing and doing the move all at once would have been easier for them, and less of a demand on their time, but I needed to do it slowly, as I had the energy.
So, here I am, sitting on my sofa with my feet up, my cup of tea at hand, writing my blog and looking out my window at a bright and sunny day.
I need to get back to some serious work now, like finishing the edit on my NaNo novel and doing the prep to publish my second murder story.
And I’m determined to use up all that fabric and yarn the kids are storing for me. I see a rag quilt in everyone’s future.
My Dad used to say that it took three weeks for a change to feel normal. The weeks I took sorting through my belongings seemed ‘normal’ like that was my life, packing, making decisions and never actually going anywhere.
But it was only an interim, this is the real change. I have to laugh, my daughter helped me unpack the kitchen and had everything neat and tidy, and the counters clear when she left. There’s not much space there now, but I’ll get it clear again. I have to, for at some point I may want to cook myself a meal.
It fell to my son, by virtue of his being the adult male in the family, to ‘tote that barge/ lift that bale’. What, you’re thinking, does that mean?
The origin is long before my time, but I always liked the rhythm of it, and have used it on occasion. It comes from the song ‘Ol Man River’, from the 1927 musical ShowBoat. The song was sung by dockworkers and contrasts the hardships of working on the docks with the endless, and carefree, flow of the
My son did a lot of toting and lifting, and I’m sure there were times he thought he’d never see the end of it.
I always used that phrase as encouragement, come on, tote that barge, lift that bale, let’s get this job done. And now, the job is almost done. I have unpacking and some decorating to do, but that’s the fun part.
I feel content, I feel a freedom from the burden of what I’d let myself collect, and I feel…at home.
And isn’t that what we all want, a sense of home and belonging.