People say that moving is one of life’s most stressful events, along with divorce, retirement and death (not your own, because, after all, you can’t be stressed if you’re dead). Well, I’ve never been divorced, so I can’t comment on that. But my husband recently retired and I’d say he’s looking pretty relaxed – no sign of
agitation there. We’ve also decided to move, and the stress factor has just kicked in for both of us. I confess that I’m a bit of a pack rat, probably owing to the fact that I grew up in a big house with a big basement and we kept e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g.
My family read a lot, so the house was filled was books on just about every subject. Biography of Sigmund Freud? Check. Textbooks on exotic dermatological diseases (one of my faves)? Check. Medical book of case studies on sexual deviants? Check
(this was another fave for the Boyle offspring). And cookbooks, we had those, too, though not as many as I seem to have accumulated today. Over the course of his life my husband has also accumulated hundreds of books, most of which are
about military history, so those also need to be taken into account. I live in an apartment (largish by NYC standards), but it’s crammed to the gills with stuff – books under every couch and chair and a storage room brimming with all sorts of
collectibles. All this is fine and dandy when you’re staying put, but when the time comes to move, everything has to be carefully picked through and then packed up and protected from the brutality of the modern mover. As a result of all this unpleasant activity, I’m having a mini nervous breakdown and wake up at 4 am
every morning in a cold sweat just thinking of all sorts of grisly scenarios involving broken valuables, missed flights, forgotten cat, etc., etc.
In light of my fragile mental state, I’ve decided to suspend blog activities until sometime in April at which point, God willing, I’ll be back to my chipper, carefree self and able to resume blogging duties. Please excuse my absence during
this period and wish me well on my journey. We’re heading for Florida which, according to my husband, is the U.S. center for man-eating gators and sharks, blood-sucking insects, poisonous snakes, hurricanes, blazing tropical sun, and oranges. I’ll need some good wishes, as well as some luck fighting the elements. See you in the spring, in my new home. It’s got a great kitchen, so hopefully this will all be worth it. If not, we can always move again…