This morning I found myself propped up in bed with a cup of coffee, checking off receipts for the many expenses of the week. The thoughts running through my mind went something like this. Two weeks ago I was going about my normal routine in a house filled with all the things I love. How did I end up here? In less than 10 days, we have packed up all the contents of a 2700 square-foot house, loaded it onto a truck (a 26-footer four times!) and crammed it all into three storage units. We have found a temporary place to live and here I sit in a king-sized bed (one plus!) figuring my checkbook. I continued to think about the events of the last week or so and marveled at all we've been able to accomplish. The average person would think we've lost our minds, selling the house where we've lived for two years, packing the entire house and the office and studio up as well (which is like an entire other house) and clearing the premises completely and pretty much without any glitches in those 10 grueling days. Pretty amazing if I say so myself.
But hard crazy work does not always come without at least some consequences. Like complete and utter fatigue of the most extreme kind.
I had promised my dad to take him to his dental appointment at the VA in Atlanta and I was not about to disappoint him. So within 20 minutes of the time I was supposed to leave to go fetch my dad, I was still putting the finishing touches on the house -- cleaning, final-checking, and scurrying to complete my tasks before the new owner arrived. And here's the thing. I didn't have have time to shower. Or wash my hair. Or change my clothes or underwear. Or even brush my teeth. I think you might see where this is going. I jumped into my car and literally flew (well, not literally) the 15 miles to pick up daddy and get him to the VA on time. Nothing else really mattered at that point. But on the way... I pulled out my antibacterial wipes and washed my face. I chewed four squares of peppermint gum. I brushed through my slightly greasy hair and pulled it into a ponytail. I put on a touch of lipstick. And I did all this on the ride to pick up my dad. Miracles happen every single solitary day; I am living proof of that indeed. I had freshened up enough to be presentable. But by day's end, I was a basket case of emotions. I also was dog-tired. Have you ever been dog-tired? Dog-tired is where your body only has the ability left to flop down and stay there for a period of undetermined time. Even better if it's on a front porch somewhere in the warm spring sun. But here's the greatest miracle of the day. I also did not have time to eat. I had a slightly soft apple on the kitchen counter and consumed it, not knowing it would have to sustain me until my dad treated me to S&S Cafeteria about 5:30 that afternoon. I got all my comfort-food favorites which included chicken pot pie and a slice of chocolate pie. An "all-pie" meal definitely constitutes comfort food and confirms the fact that I was too tired and hungry to make a better decision. But it was beyond delicious and I had it scarfed down within about 10 minutes time. I never go a day without eating before 5:30 (well, save the apple); it's just not what I do. On an average day I must have food before noon or I become cranky and impossible. Another example of the miracles of the day.
So the search has begun to find the next property. We are in an extended-stay facility which is providing for us a much needed respite for resting (as we work!) and a landing spot for control central. Which gets me to thinking...I could get used to this...no housework...limited items to keep up with...a comfy king bed with linens changed by someone else...watching TV in that bed...the list goes on of conveniences that come with this kind of temporary living. And it really gets me to thinking (even more than I already have) of how living with less is looking more and more appealing to me by the moment. Do we really need all the things we think we do? This has been a recurring theme in my last few posts -- I guess because I am totally worn out from moving all that stuff! But for right now I have a peace and relief about having accomplished the task that has been confronting us head-on for a while now.
But for the record, I did have a slight mini-meltdown the evening of the 17th. I picked up hubby and took him back to the old house to pick up his car. As we came around the corner of the front of the house, I had this overwhelming desire to just go in and get in my bed. I was beyond exhausted and the tears started to fall. The house was not a warm welcoming haven any longer. It was all locked up, dark and sad, and my heart hurt a little thinking it would be my last time there. But hubby assured me he had booked a nice hotel room our first night out with a comfy pillow for my head and that I would not go without shelter. To our angst, however, upon arriving at the hotel around 11:00 (finally!), we were informed there had been an error and they did not have a room for us. Whuuuut? Neither did the next hotel where we inquired. We felt a bit like Mary and Joseph that long-ago night when there was no room for them in the inn, but at least I was not nine months pregnant with child! But, hey, we did find a room where we both found rest for the next day. And now every day is a day where the hunt is on, a new adventure has begun, and we are moving forward.
But there is no moving forward without some pain, no success without some risk, no finding something new without leaving something else behind.
And hard crazy challenges don't come without at least a few tears.
Posted by CC
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