I is good at the moving!

T-minus six days until I move to Minneapolis. I mailed the first rent I’ve had to pay in…um…a long time to my landlord up there, and wept quietly when I saw the dent it had made in my bank account. It may do a number to one’s street cred to live with one’s parents for a year, but it’s almost, almost made up by the cash saved on lodging and the ungodly amounts of baked goods at one’s disposal. Despite my transient bohemian life after college, I’m convinced I’m a suburban housewife in disguise. Because I’m really going to miss the granite countertop and seasonal dishware.

***

Moving, as everyone knows, is rather stressful. But as my family and close friends can attest, something unique happens to me when I get ready to move. Something that looks kind of like this:

Not that this is based on a real event or anything. Cough. Just a possible, um, example.

There’s no way around it. moving is hard. Especially when you’re leaving the nest for the second (fine! third, damnit) time. People keep telling me, “ohhh, congratulations!” and “you must be excited!”, the way that kind, considerate people often do.

But because the LAST time I got all excited about a big move to Minneapolis for graduate school, a giant bird named Fate dropped a giant poop on my head, I am trying to keep the excitement on the down low. Like, I am hoping to kind of slink out quietly before the Fate bird realizes my getaway and tries to poop on me again. Silly old fate bird.

A rare image of the exotic bird. Funny looking guy, isn't he?

My monkey mind remembers the Fate bird, too, so it is being very diligent. Maybe a little too diligent. My body thinks that every time I get a bit stressed, I am either a) being chased by a saber-toothed tiger, or b) getting a ball-busting illness again. So I am often overwhelmed with an urge to run or to get tested. For everything. Three times a day.

Sweet old monkey mind. I think it was Anne LaMott who said that we should treat ourselves the way we would treat an elderly, slightly deranged great aunt — kindly, gently, and with a lot of soft food. What are some times in your life where you have to pat your deranged great aunt self kindly on the head?

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2 responses to “I is good at the moving!

  1. Sally,
    My hope for you is the most trauma free move possible.
    Take care and keep writing.
    You are an inspiration.
    Sharon 1.0

  2. Denise Beckfield

    This is so sweet and funny, so true — and so ‘you.’ It makes me want to rush over with pureed apricots — till I realize that, in fact, you can kick my you-know-what without even breaking a sweat. Love every post you leave — hope you keep us updated after the move! All our best wishes, Denise & the male Beckfields too

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