I'll bring the match.
OK, so today was what you might call an exercise in...revelation. (I was going to call it an exercise in frustration, but since I'm running around on my unicorn burping damn good coffee and glitter lately, the "f" word has been banished beyond the rainbow.)
The nice MasterCare men came and shampooed the living dickens out of the Happy Chair and the lower Stewey peenie zone of the bedroom recliner. The poor souls...one look at the state of things had them running for the industrial strength cleaner and the rubber gloves.
We were getting along just fine until one of them said "Um, Ma'am? Exactly how old IS this chair?"
Cheeky little brat.
For the record, I purchased the Happy Chair on April 20, 1992 from the JC Penney Home Store in Mishawaka, Indiana, and my friend Michele's husband carried it and the matching ottoman up the stairs to my crappy little apartment without complaint.
(On May 1, 1992 I was entertaining a gentleman caller for a post-dinner cup of coffee, and he proceeded to drop an entire pot of it smack dab in the center of the less than two week old (previously white) ottoman.)
But that's a whole other story for a whole 'nuther day.
Cheeky was, however, very happy to climb atop the ladder to toss down the very very dusty books and decorations that I had been fretting about. That task alone was worth the price of admission, I tell ya because it reminded where I had stashed the damn cheese book.
(My dad gave me a copy of Who Moved My Cheese because he thought it might be a good way for me to learn how to manage change.)
(I guess I should have read the damn thing.)
Or maybe not....because I decided to pack the office today instead of books, and right there waiting for me was a whole steaming heap of change.
I won't have an actual office at CS2, so the plan was to take the black armoire thingie and put it in the new studio alcove.
But as I was unloading all of the crap out of the armoiore (like a destop computer powered by gerbils and a fax machine less sophisticated than two tin cans and a string) something kept bugging me about the dimensions of everything.
So I pulled out my handy dandy floor plan and fished the measuring tape out of the tool box and, wouldn't you know, there is no way in holy h-e-double-toothpicks that this will fit. You would think this would have thrown me into some kind of existential crisis, but I kind of shrugged my shoulders and said "OK...no armoire. I've been sitting at the dining room table anyway to pay bills and play with my planner...looks like I'll just keep doing that instead."
And then I went and grabbed a water, took a lovely shower, and decided to call it a day.
Some way some how I must have read that damn cheese book, because I seem to be rolling with it better than I ever have in my life. I don't know if it's the prospect of living in an entirely new place or if I'm just finally exhausted...but every single thing I've had to tackle lately has left me feeling stronger and more at peace rather than a blubbering mess of indecision.
Before I go, though...let's talk books.
I will cull my collection some, but can guarantee that the bookshelves will move with me and will be full when unpacked. Living with books is important to me and gives me such a good feeling that I simply cannot make that change at this time. I haven't purchased a book in at least five years or so because I really enjoy our library system here and make good use of it, but these books are a part of my DNA...they are my art.
Do you remember when Jackie O died and John John said "My mother passed away today surrounded by her books and the people she loved"? Well, that's what I want to be said about me.
(But hopefully sometime in the future, if you please.)
So that's the long-winded update for a busy Wednesday. I don't know if I will have a chance to visit with you tomorrow or not...I have several appointments and then I really do have to think about getting the laundry done.
And these books packed!