Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Still still moving

We have had ten days to move, which seems like, NEAT! OH I CAN JUST TAKE MY TIME AND BRING OVER WHAT I NEED WHEN I NEED IT but it isn't like that at all. It is equally as frantic and twice as scattered as regular inaday moving.

On the second and a half night Willie slipped away and disappeared which brought all moving momentum to a screeching halt while we walked the streets for hours in the sun calling for her and meeting our new neighbors, some of whom already know my husband because this house, this is the one he was brought home from the hospital to and there are still tricycle wounds to the siding and the shadows of holes where he threw darts at the wall and anyway. She was in the knotty apple tree out back the whole time. Day three and a half the move resumed.

Moving inherently makes you take stock of yourself. Usually when I move I waste the full week before wading through old letters and photographs as if a bad camera shot at last summers BBQ into the garbage is going to lighten my load. My priorities are so painfully undefined. Moving gives me a chance to turn the soil and shiver at the worms elongating, shrinking, elongating exposed to the sun. Time is like that. But this time I just took whole albums and put them into boxes in part because I want out of the cabin so so so badly and in part because now that I am married I don't want to have to think about what to do with those half naked pictures of old boyfriends, such as obviously taken from bed while he dressed for work. I can't have those, I don't want those, and I wont remember who I am without them. I need evidence and unlike some people the firmity of my bones is not always enough.

Nothing seems of much value when confronted with the relativity of its burden across town. I really have nothing. Nothing much. I own fairly large numbers of a very select things. For example, I found out definitively tonight that I have 59 potted plants, maybe 61 or 64 if I recounted. I have, notdifinitively about 458 pairs of shoes, 5372 pounds of books, and somewhat definitively 21 bottles of hair product. Beside the familiar photographs of people I don't even know anymore. And letters sent me a thousand years ago.

But now I have other things too. I have wedding gifts; shiny pots and pans, dishes, paper thin wine glasses with deep resonant bowls... I am waiting for an occasion now. Maybe something spectacular and memorable like, locating the box with my other black Dansko sandal or finding gainful employment. In the meantime I can do spectacular things with rice and beans, beans and rice. And books, being deaddeadly broke they might be sold for an accumulative tidy sum.

Edison has been doing spectacularly well since the day we returned from our honeymoon. I am holding my breath for two weeks expecting his final downturn but every day he follows me still on my heels, eats with greed, even gives chase to the neighbor cats feeble but with heart.

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