Thursday, January 10, 2008

Moving on, moving in


I've been cleaning my bedroom today, more like excavating actually. The history of this archaeological dig begins five years ago. My husband was in the ICU with a life-threatening clotting disorder, we had just sold our house and were preparing to move into this one, and I had four kids, nine and under. Luckily I also had, and have, wonderful friends and family who took over the move and the children so that I could concentrate on being at the hospital with my husband to advocate and care for him. I've written about the long-term effects of this on me, and us, before (PTSD or just plain old life?), so I won't go into that here.

On the day were to move, an amazing crowd of friends, neighbors, and complete strangers showed up. I felt like Dorothy as an Oz-like tornado of human kindness lifted us and our things out of one house and plopped us down into another. Of course, everything was higgledy piggledy and I cared not at all. Over the years I've slowly organized the post-move mess, almost everywhere. The living spaces were wrestled into shape first, then the kids rooms. But never our bedroom, because there were always other more important things to do. As a result, there are boxes in our room that are in exactly the same spot they were dumped in five years ago. God knows what's in them. And on top of those boxes, I've put other boxes, from the other rooms I was organizing, till the pile has become a fixed 'Monument to The Move' that we just walk around with seeing anymore.

So now, five years later, my husband still has a life-threatening clotting disorder, but surgery and daily medication keep it stable. The four little kids are not so little anymore and are gone seven predictable hours a day. As for me, I'm finally moving into my own bedroom. Better late than never.

12 comments:

Paul said...

I've done the same thing in every place that I've lived. My bedroom or private spaces that no one gets to see are never really unpacked or made presentable because they are not "public" spaces. And one of the "stereotypes" I didn't get when I got my membership with the toaster-oven was the decorating gene...

Elizabeth said...

You mean you guys get a toaster oven when join up? Who knew? But I bet they've moved on to microwaves these days.....

Yeah, the rest of the house is fine, but your own private space is a dump. I know there's symbolism there but, Oh well.

Willym said...

with us its what we laughingly call the office - the Embassy Housing Committee is coming by next Monday and being the houseproud faggot I am I just know I'm going to have to spend the weekend trying to make it presentable. Damned if I'll have any of that bunch making comments around the expresso machine.

Doralong said...

I have a great rule about boxes of "stuff"- If I haven't touched in 12 months it's either a seasonal decoration or it's trash.. But naturally that only applies to my stuff, as the husband is constitutionally incapable of throwing ANYTHING away. It's rather maddening actually..

Good luck with that ;) And for the record, Wills you crack my ass up!

Elizabeth said...

Will: Ah, "the office!" I'll have to start using that one. And, just for the record, I'm with Doralong - you crack my ass, and the rest of me, up too.

Doralong: I'm considering the 'If I haven't touched it in a year it's trash' method. But given the insanity of that move, I may have to peek first to make sure it's not Grandma's silver or something.

sageweb said...

I thought everyone knew about the toaster ovens..hmm...you get one when you first join and one for everyone you recruit. They really should upgrade to Microwaves.

So I have issues with order. They say it is because I am a virgo...but I think it is just me. I have been known to take vacation to re-organize...I can't concentrate at work if my home is in disorder. I am sure I have underlying issues (ex was a therapist) but I don't hassle anybody and I don't require anybody to be like me. So I need no fixin.

Elizabeth said...

Sageweb: I'm a virgo too, but sadly, the mother planet has no effect on me. Chaos=joy for me (lucky, since I have four kids, and that's a lot of chaos).

yellowdog granny said...

ahh, that makes me feel much better about all the shit I have shoved under the bed and stacked in the closet...at my old house before I moved I used to swear there was a family from guatamala living in my spare room but I could never catch them..

Elizabeth said...

Granny: Ha!!

D-Man said...

Just shove the boxes in the crawlspace, like we did... then they don't exist anymore!

mrpeenee said...

Throw it all away. If you haven't needed it in five years, why would you need it now?

Good luck with the book

Elizabeth said...

d-man: Hmmm. I like the way you think. Out of sight, out of mind. Alas, we have no crawl space.

mr. P: I am getting-rid-of-things disabled. I blame it on moving every two years during my childhood, which conveniently saves me from blaming it on myself!

Thanks for the good wishes on the book. I'm a nervous wreck about it.