After a week and a half of general fatigue and recurrent nausea, I have moved into my new place. It is another basement suite, as predicted. However, it’s in a cute little house with a pitched roof just blocks from my favourite cafes and consignment stores on Main Street. How could I refuse?
Big life changes are not something that I do all that well. I’m a little like my cat that way—I scout out my territory and lash out at those who disrupt or infringe upon it unless they are invited. I’m also a little perturbed about how much stuff I have managed to accumulate and am both amused and annoyed by my lack of filtering skills. Why, for instance, do I still have all of my lecture notes from university Art History and English classes? Am I planning on re-enacting a night of cramming for the final exam? How about the old scrawled high school notes passed between various girlfriends? Certainly they are nostalgic and amusing, but NECESSARY? Then there are the tougher ones … sentimental yet obsolete gifts and items from old lovers that will never again be displayed and rarely looked at. For some reason, I am not able to toss these into the trash or “Donation” box. I’m going to be one of those old ladies with an attic full of such items that my grandchildren will one day rifle through as they muse about their crazy granny’s youth. Yes, that thought makes my crowded storage room seem a little more tolerable.
Here is a list of Melissa’s Moving Tips (compiled mainly from what I did wrong) for anyone who is planning to move anytime soon:
~ Pack well ahead of time and label your boxes. Believe me, the several boxes of “Miscellaneous” items that were thrown together at the last minute are the bane of my redecorating experience.
~ Remember to eat. Seriously, it’s been a big problem. Many packaged dinners at 11:00 p.m. lately.
~ If you have a cat, make sure there is a safe spot in the new place for him/her to run and hide before you transport the poor soul to your new home. In Cleo’s case, her memories of panting, crying and attacking the cage door were quickly alleviated by a few hours of refuge under my bed.
~ And finally, accept help from family and friends when it’s offered. My mantra while growing up was, “I’ll do it myself!” This one cannot be done by oneself. Phew!
Thank you to everyone who helped to “replant” me in Vancouver.
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