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…
