Out With The Old
Moving is horrid! That is, it will one day be wonderful, but that day isn’t today, nor will it be tomorrow. Tonight we collapsed amid the boxes, captured via cellphone because the camera is packed, after a dinner cobbled together from the local deli because the kitchen is all packed up. Shel had to carry a bottle of wine up to the neighbors to beg for a corkscrew, after we failed to be able open it at home. The dishwasher soap got packed by accident. We have to be three places at once tomorrow morning. My garden is in exquisite springtime bloom and seems impossible to leave, whereas my soon-to-be new garden is currently all heaps of dirt and rock, moved to make way for some actual parking spaces near the house. Beppo and Zazou are off at kitty camp to escape the horrors of seeing their home uprooted. We’ve stocked up on Feliway to help them adapt to their new home, but where’s the human version of a calming spray??? One thing we made sure not to pack: Advil. We were a lot younger the last time we moved, we ached less, we were more cheerful.
But in just a couple of days it will be over, and we’ll begin to settle into a new life. We’ll figure out which drawer is for the silverware, where to put the linens. Most maddening of all: a kitchen with no place to keep a broom and dustpan. I kid you not. Not a broom closet, not even a broom slot. But this too we shall survive – (hope to) see you on the flip side.French Letters Visits America