Limbo

[vaneramos]

I had planned on staying some nights at the apartment to get ready for the move, but that has not happened. I don't want to be there; I want to be here. Every day on the way home from work I stop at the old place and realize how much packing there still is to do. I fill a big old camping backpack with stuff and take it to the car. One trip up and down two flights of stairs in that hot, tired building is plenty for one day. I've transported most of the kitchen things and enough clothes to live with, even the microwave and a couple small pieces of furniture. Sunday morning Danny and I went to Aberfoyle Antique Market and picked up a couple bar stools so we can eat at the kitchen island, and something he has wanted for a long time: a rocking chair. The only thing I have to wait for that I really miss is my desk and a dresser so I can organize clothes. Danny's actual moving day with a truck is July 23. Mine is August 6.

Comments

[waitsfortherain.livejournal.com]

Reading an entry like this makes me think: I can't believe there are people who actually enjoy moving. I hate the guts of it. When I moved to my previous place, in 2003, I told myself it was going to be the last one. But then it wasn't. In January of this year I moved again, having sold the old place and bought a new one. So now I prefer not to say those words again. I just hope and pray I won't have to move again. I hope that, as my mother used to say, my next address is the sea. At the time she said that she had already decided she wanted to be cremated, her ashes to be thrown in the sea, as indeed they were.

I hope Danny enjoys his rocking chair. I sympathize. I've always wanted a gramophone, an authentic one, in perfect working conditions, to be able to pay old 78 rpm records on it. Sometimes I go to places that sell them and check the prices. Too bloody expensive. Maybe one day I'll be able to buy one. Not now.