I am moving. Because of my historical packing ineptitude [reference: conversation between me and Gwynne that happened while making first trip last night: Gwynne: “I forgot how you packed.” (Said while carrying bookshelf full of books and shoes, with disgruntled look.) Me: “I don’t.” Gwynne: “Right.”] I have decided to take a full month to accomplish the move. Yes, that means I am paying rent in two places this month, but I believe it is worth it when confronted with the alternative mental anguish of a single heave-and-go.

I have been moving for about one week now, and I am already emotionally exhausted. Why is saying goodbye to a house so earth-shatteringly heart-wrenching to me? I do it all the time, and it never seems to get easier. It is because it’s not just saying goodbye to a shelter, it is saying goodbye to the first night I spent with my dog, saying goodbye to pie nights with roommates that made me laugh til my chest hurt, to quiet evenings on the Puerto Rican Sex Couch with bad TV and good wine, to old relationships and back-breaking landscaping efforts. It is a new beginning, and those always kick me in the teeth.

But here we go.

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This is an article that was posted on Oct 2, 12:16 PM.

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Comment [3]

  1. Jake Oct 3, 01:31 PM

    Good luck with your slow move!

  2. Buck Oct 4, 08:20 PM

    Haven’t you paid rent at two places (at the same time) before?

    I miss the Cape sometimes.

    I’m sure your new beginning will be one of many, which will bring very fond memories.



  3. real reviews australian essay writers Aug 16, 07:56 AM

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