This Must Be The Place

5 Jul

In keeping with this year’s theme, “And now for something completely different,” I packed up all my belongings and moved out of my lovely, old, Victorian neighborhood and into an apartment with the boyfriend. Now I live in Midtown next to a grocery store, pet store, hardware store, Dollar General, a jazzercise studio, Taco Bell and Subway. Yikes.

I’m handling it surprisingly well, if I do say so myself.

Well, barring that massive meltdown I had over the last week.

The moving day was set for Monday- my day off and usually our ‘date day.’ When Sunday night rolled around my brain came to a complete stop. COMPLETE. I couldn’t think of basic phrases or sentences.  Needless to say, I had a stupid horrible night at work. When it was all over, two of my best friends called to tell me good luck, and to check in to make sure I was ok. They know me just far too well. After some crying, screaming- and I think I threw something at some point- I finally got to sleep.

Enter Monday- the moving day. I was running behind in getting my stuff packed into my buddy’s van, and I needed help. The boyfriend was off cleaning his apartment. If I had known just how dirty that apartment was, I would’ve begged him to keep cleaning but instead I asked him to come by. As I got all my memories stuffed into the van, I was overwhelmed again by those same waves of sadness that come every time I move. I have a LOT of history, and a lot of evidence.

When we entered the apartment with the first vanload of stuff, I immediately walked outside and started crying. It was FILTHY- just filthy. After a bit of a screaming match, I rolled up my sleeves, swallowed my anger, and started cleaning. I took the next three days off of work to simply clean the place, unpack, organize my shoes and comic books, and try to hide my crazy from the rest of the world (if only for a minute.)

It’s crazy how well two people can compromise when one of them is in a completely psychotic and irrational state. It’s also crazy how far a little jewelry, flowers, and Rod Stewart Radio on Pandora can go to calm down an angry woman.

This week comes the fun part. Painting, new furniture, new linens, new stuff. Shopping is usually a good way to soothe me.

I have some great friends, and it was definitely a group effort to keep me together throughout the whole thing. On Wednesday one of my buddies discovered me sitting beneath the bridge to my old house in a pool of my own tears. He helped me crawl though a window, as I had locked my keys inside the house. On Thursday another buddy had to come get the van out of an impossible parking space I had it in. On Friday I nearly killed myself with a garage door- but that’s another story entirely.

Lessons I learned: next time I move I’m paying someone to do it for me.

 

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