Let me just preface this by saying moving is a terrible, awful thing. Seriously.
We last moved 6 years ago. We were newlyweds, fresh out of college, with little to no real, substantial furniture. We've acquired several more things since then. Like a toddler and a mother-in-law with lots of books.
Slowly but surely, the new house is coming together. It's the little things that remain out of sync. Like the drawer full of pictures I dumped onto the floor last week because they really don't need to be in the nightstand any longer. They've been in this drawer for at least 4 years, if anyone cares. Or the closet shelf that fell last night, causing both the cat and I to almost jump off the bed.
There are some little things I itching to complete (and by "complete" I mean buy and make someone else install): draperies for the dining room, blinds for the master bath and living room, foo-foo wallpaper for the tee-tiny powder room downstairs.
I suppose this can translate to writing life as well. Like the limbo you feel when you've completed one project and want to start another. Or the overwhelming rush of relief to have made a deadline.
Through this move, I've made one thing clear. No matter what, I ain't moving again.
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Hi Jana,
ReplyDeleteI feel for you! I moved 1 1/2 years ago and I still have 2 very large boxes sitting in my dining room waiting to be unpacked. Funny thing is, for the life of me, I can't figure out what's in them. Yes, I know I could simply open them and look, but that would mean making a commitment to putting the 'unknowns' away! Oh, the head games...
By the way - You've been tagged. This means you have to go to my blog, copy the questions and post them on your site. Jose Bogran tagged me and I'm obliged to keep it going because apparently, I have nothing better to do. (maybe I should tackle the boxes)