Big Moving Post

So, to begin with, never drive twenty hours straight without stopping, folks. It is so unfun as to be ludicrous. But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.

First, I want to talk about last Friday! A day of extraordinary chaos, but also great joy as well. I spent most of the day waiting for the charity people to come and pick up my stuff, and being completely freaked out when they didn't. But you know who did show up? My friend Jill, with lunch from Feast!

This is Jill, looking lovely with our starters of black pudding and welsh rarebit, both of which were quite delicious. We then ate our way solidly through a main course and dessert, both vowing to eat more things with chocolate and cardamom. I think that's the kind of resolution I can keep.

Later in the day, I was also lucky enough to have Amelia and Andrew visit with a delicious Reuben sandwich to sustain me through the evening. And honestly, I needed it. I was absolutely worn out from the frequent trips to the dumpster.

But, Saturday morning, I set out with all three cats harnessed and leashed (please note that when I arrived Sunday morning, only one cat had not escaped her harness) and my Beetle seriously crammed full. I drove through the day and into the setting sun and into a starry West Texas night, and, eventually, north through a gilded Arizona dawn. Mind, by that time, I was awake only through the use of two five-hour energy drinks. Horrible but effective.

And finally, I was up in the mountains and breathing in the chilly air, and my mother was waiting for me on the front steps with a hamburger. Seriously.

I don't think I've processed everything yet--I'm still unpacking, trying to get my sleeping schedule back to normal, and suchlike, but so far, everything is okay.

Moving Freely

I had the most astounding epiphany the other day, as I was sitting in the ruins of my apartment trying to figure out how I was going to get all my junk into storage: I don't have to keep this stuff.

There are so many laws and regulations in place in our lives, that it's liberating to realize that the one thing no one can make you do is keep stuff you don't want. I don't want to own most of what I possess. Like, ninety percent of it.

So I scheduled a pickup from Houston Charity Agencies, started selling my books at Half-Price Books (yes, those SAME books I was mooning over a little while ago), and began throwing things away! This is perhaps the single most liberating experience of my life, letting go of so many things. I've been glowing with happiness and peace ever since and spreading news of my decision like an evangelist.

I do understand that not everyone can realistically do this. I'm in a unique situation, moving home to be cradled (figuratively) in the maternal bosom and put up in a furnished place. But I still think that at many points in our lives it may be good to say, "I need a fresh start."

After all, think of your life as, not a single drama (or comedy), but rather a theater company. Every now and again, when a run gets stale, you start casting around for scripts that will express the core vision of your company along with your sensibilities right now. Do you really want to have a theater full of props from your long run of "The Master Builder" when you've totally decided that it's time for a Noel Coward piece? Of course not! Time for new props, new costumes, and a new set.

Herding Cats

I've been working on harness-training my cats in preparation for the move because I worked out that there was no way I could keep them all in the carrier for the duration of the seventeen-hour drive. Instead, they will wear their harnesses and be restrained with leashes anytime I open the car door.

So far, the training is...interesting. My two older cats are fairly relaxed about the harness itself, but the leash still wigs them out a little bit. But my little girl is not pleased by the harness. She walks around like she's crippled, even though the harness doesn't obstruct her movement in any way, meows pitifully, and is generally not happy with the situation.

My basic plan is to get them used to wearing the harnesses for longer and longer each day until they're completely relaxed in them, then do some leash work. All this is supplemented by lots of petting and treats, naturally.

Overall, the thing I'm dreading most about this move is listening to these guys cry for seventeen hours and trying to keep them contained. My mortal fear is that one will escape during a stop for gas, and I just couldn't handle that, but I think with the leashes, everything will be okay.

Book Hunger

I've been packing my books today, packing them to go into storage until goodness knows when, and it evokes a kind of panic in me. Old favorites suddenly demand to be reread, and books that I bought and shelved without taking the time to read them (yes, this is a horrible habit of mine) have suddenly taken on an urgency.

For this reason, I'm taking a break from my Kindle (it gets to come with me, after all) and rediscovering the treasures I possess already. Jessica Mitford's Hons and Rebels is high on the list, as her sister's Love in a Cold Climate. The latter is an old favorite, the former I haven't read.

I feel like I'm in a race against time, trying to get all the words crammed into my brain that I can before they're backed away, mute and helpless. I know there will be more books, that I will see these books again, but the pangs I feel are terrible.

Officially in Transit

I discovered this morning that I was not selected for a job I had rather hoped to get. That job was my last hope of remaining in Houston in the near future. As it stands, I will be moving at the end of this month to Arizona to live near my mother, look for work, write on my dissertation and sponge off my relations.

I'm feeling nervous about this, of course--being stuck in a small town with no friends and no job isn't the easiest situation in the world. But I'm also grateful that I have a place to go and people who care about me. And, to some extent, I'm looking forward to a fresh start.

I have always been a fan of metamorphosis. Five years ago, when I moved to Houston, I stopped going by my Christian name and began being called by my confirmation name. It was, to me, more meaningful and frankly more attractive. And it was all part of the process of becoming who I needed to be. Sophie.

Now, I suspect there may be a new Sophie that I need to be. She may be a Sophie who builds chicken coops (wouldn't fresh eggs be divine?). She may be a Sophie who does things I can't even imagine yet. All I know is that I'm loading up my Beetle with one big box of books, two suitcases and three cats so that I have a chance to keep becoming.