Taking one month to move sounded like a good idea in early July. But by the time we entered the last 24 hours of daily box carrying, I was beyond ready to be finished.
There is a big advantage to using a canvas bag as a purse — you have no qualms about emptying the entire contents of a kitchen drawer into it.
See that receipt in there? That wasn’t in the kitchen drawer, that was one of the original purse items. Receipts have been my life for the last forty two days. I’ve been on a loop of going to every hardware-container-bed-bath-world-market-pier place in West LA and back again. Turns out every 6th item I bought was the wrong shade of eggplant and every 11th item I bought was 7 inches too short. Somewhere along the way, I lost my measuring tape. Lily was freakishly afraid of the sound it made anyway. Perhaps she knew that her entire universe was about to change.
Even though we’ve been sleeping in the new place for almost 2 weeks now, I’m still not settled. It took me four days to find my hairbrush. The first weekend here, we had friends in from out of town – which was a wonderful house-warming, memory-making gift but a complete diversion from finishing organizing.
Being fully situated hasn’t happened yet. There are a few more boxes to unpack in the library/office/guest room and that’s where I had envisioned myself writing. At my desk. But until I find places for what’s in those boxes, that room doesn’t feel ready. I feel like a cat walking in circles clawing at the blankets to try and make a cozy resting spot.
At the same time, I’m immensely grateful. I have to laugh at myself for sounding too much like the princess and the pea whining about being displaced. The reality is that I’m in freaking paradise enjoying a wonderful new home. “Displaced” is a word I ought not use when describing such blessed circumstances.
I miss blogging terribly. This weekend. I’ll make it happen this weekend.