multi-hyphenated-me

the hyphens that define my life

Coundown to our move to Spokane T-1: She Ain’t What She Used To Be June 18, 2013

Do you know this children’s song?

Oh, the old gray mare
She ain’t what she used to be
Ain’t what she used to be
The old gray mare
She ain’t what she used to be
Many long years ago.

Right here, right now, this is the story of my life.  I am the old gray mare.  I ain’t what I used to be, ain’t what I used to be, many long years ago.

Don’t say, “you’re only as old as you feel.”  That phrase doesn’t help me at all.  If this phrase is true, I feel about 90 years old right now.  I’m sore, I’m tired, and my back is going to snap in half.

In case you’re wondering, moving sucks.  Moving has always sucked.  It hasn’t gotten better with age.  Clearly I haven’t either.

I asked my husband last night, “why do we have to be cheap ass DIY-ers? Why are we doing all this work?” Ok, ok, frugal would have been a better word choice but it doesn’t convey the heartfelt message. I’ll work on my word choices AFTER I stop hobbling along like an old woman.

This could be my last move.  I don’t think I have another one in me just for the energy required to make the shift.

Then again, you know with my track record I can’t honestly say that.  Let’s look at what I would do differently with my next move…

  • Hire movers
  • Have the kids around to help – work and social outings should not be allowed during crunch time.
  • Be in top physical condition, focusing on biceps, core and quads
  • Schedule daily massage and chiropractic visits
  • Get physical clearance from my doctor
  • Get more sleep
  • Ease up on the drinking and partying the weekend prior to the move.
  • Eat healthy (the whole not cooking thing backfired on me this week.  Restaurant food, whether gourmet or fast food, makes me feel bloated and stodgy.
  • Don’t sell your washer and dryer earlier than planned.  I’m typing this post from the laundromat.  I’m bringing my closet full of skeletons with me to Spokane, but I will not travel with dirty laundry.

A good list but it would be easier to just stay put than to do all this just to move.  Then again….

We’ve covered old, gray, nag – oh no, I’m the mare in this song, not a nag, I’m the nag at home I forgot.

Here’s the real bummer.  We’re just getting started.  I’m whining about loading boxes into a truck.  137 boxes.  That’s it.  We sold our furniture.  I’m not even doing any heavy big furniture moving.  We drop the boxes at Amtrak today to be shipped to Spokane.  I did say we’re cheap right?  My husband researched and discovered that shipping our boxes with Amtrak was far less expensive than any other shipping method.  fascinating.  We are driving 30 miles to Union Station to drop off the boxes, 30 miles home and then….we’re going to Disneyland!

My husband and I agree that we should rent wheelchairs and make the kids push us around all day.  This old gray mare, she ain’t what she used to be.

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My Daily Blog: T-7 Survival Mode June 12, 2013

My friend said ‘We’re still on for Tuesday, right?’ Wait.  What’s Tuesday?  ‘We’re having lunch.’ Oh yeah, right, lunch Tuesday.  Definitely.  What a flake I’ve become.  Maybe I’ve always been flakey but the mysterious blank spaces in my mind are becoming more and more apparent as our move draws near.  Our family calendar is so crammed full of activities, even with written and electronic calendars which help tremendously, I can’t keep everything committed to memory.  I was supposed to walk with a friend last night during our son’s soccer practice.  Nope, didn’t remember and committed to packing with my husband.  I’m not even focusing on and selecting the fun stuff.  I chose work over fun.  Something is seriously wrong with me.

Perfect timing.  Just what I need for this move is a mental breakdown.  No joking around, I’m concerned.  Yet I question it too.  Why am I forgetting the fun stuff?  Why am I not forgetting the work stuff? Why am I not shirking my move responsibilities?  Why am I meeting my family’s needs?  Why is the laundry getting done?

Oh. Dear. God.  I’ve crossed the line.  I’ve reached the point where I’m so focused on the move and on work that both have totally consumed me. There is no room left in my brain for fun.  EEK!  I should run away. Fast.

Don’t get me wrong, I am having fun, too much fun, and I’m having fun having fun.  In fact, I am having more fun on a daily basis in the past few weeks than I have had in many months, if not years.  Almost every day includes a social event. On a regular basis, I’m social.  I socialize.  But I don’t socialize daily. Let’s remember who I am – I’m on a first name basis with the local librarian!  I’m a bibliophile!  I sew.  I cook.  I garden.  I like getting massages and pedicures.  My hair needs to be cut! Fun is taxing and I miss my projects.  My projects kept me organized and on task.  Without my projects, I am lost.

My mind is not lost.  My life is lost.  Don’t misread my writing.  I love going out with my friends.  We have had good times, great laughs and I will miss them dearly.  With my life packed into 122 boxes and counting, I can not go on much longer sorting, pitching, donating, keeping, wrapping, packing, taping, boxing and stacking my life.  The good, yet sad news is that I don’t have too much longer.  Only 7 days remain.  One week.

I’m in survival mode now.  What would Bear Grills do in a time like this?  He’d probably eat our pets and make clothing, furniture and shelter out of the packing materials so I won’t follow his lead.  What I need is my friends.  What I need, to paraphrase Bill Withers “Lean On Me” lyrics,  is to let me lean on you, because I’m not strong. I need you to be my friend and help me carry on.

This isn’t a cry for help.  It is a plea to my friends for understanding and compassion for my flakiness and general brain meltdown as we are in the final stretch.