to be one with

Oh Lordy am I eager to get moved in. To be one with my stuff again, and to have my stuff unpacked and settled in. It’s going to be a while, since I have to make that trip back to Texas, and then the long drive back, but I really cannot wait.

I started packing in Austin a long time ago — the stuff that could easily be packed, spare closets, books, stuff off the walls, various storage — so I’ve been living amid boxes and clutter for weeks. And in NYC, bless his heart, my husband doesn’t even seem to notice clutter. Every flat surface gets covered with STUFF, and I don’t like that. It makes me feel suffocated and panicky. And now, in preparation for heading upstate to the house today, he has been gathering all sorts of stuff to take up there (“Honey, do you have coconut milk? Honey, do you have an extremely large bowl? Honey, let’s go to Chinatown to get a gigantic wok for the gigantic burner! Honey, maybe I should bring fish sauce/olive oil/shrimp paste/medicines/bulk spices/glass canisters/a meditation pillow/etc etc etc”) and it’s all sitting on the countertops and table and coffee table and floor. All this individual stuff. And there’s my suitcase and toiletry bag and backpack and purse, and he wants to bring the kaffir lime tree and some cuttings of Thai basil, and how will it all fit into his extremely messy car, anyway?

I just kind of feel like screaming. I want peace and order. Harmony and neatness. Absence of clutter. A place for everything, and everything in its place. I want jobs finished, not done to the 95% mark and then abandoned. I want my cozy bed, I miss my wonderful couch, I want my neat kitchen.

And it’s just going to be a while. It is. I have to be patient, and at a time I feel like my patience is on the v-e-r-y thin side. He and I will be in the new house together over the weekend, and he’ll come back into the city Tuesday afternoon…….and then I will be all alone in the house for three glorious days. Three days of quiet. Three days to do some settling-in. I won’t have a car, so I will be completely house-bound, but at this moment that sounds better than anything else could ever sound. Solitude. In my own house, to put things where I want to put them. To make those decisions because they make sense to me.

Then he’ll come back Friday evening, and we’ll spend the next weekend doing more unpacking — then he’ll take me to the airport on Tuesday July 11. So really, the three glorious days next week will be my shot. I can’t wait.

here is the basement with THEIR stuff in it — all that is gone and now it’s stacked with boxes and furniture

We leave today after he sees his final patient, so 1:15pm. It’s a holiday weekend so we imagine the drive upstate might be crazy. Everything is in the basement, so we’ll need to either move the mattresses upstairs or just unpack the inflatable mattress and get the bedding and shower curtain and towels, which I (very smartly, I might add) packed in a giant black trash bag so they would be easily spotted and grabbed, like a kit. A “here you go, your first night” kit. And my Chemex coffee pot and filters are in another bag ready to go, along with coffee and a bean grinder.

[minus the US flag!!] Saturday morning, maybe we will sit on the front porch with our coffee — or maybe the back deck! Options!
For more than 4.5 years I’ve lived betwixt and between, and like a divorced kid whatever I needed was at the other house. Half of the month I’d have whatever I could carry, and stuff I wanted was always back in Austin. I just can’t wait to be settled. To be in the position where “uprooted” means I’ve driven into the city for a few days, that’s all — and I’ll be driving, so I can take whatever I want in my car and not have to worry about airline restrictions.

Wah wah wah. Poor me. I’m tired, y’all. Just like your immune system keeps working while you’re under stress and then crashes when the stress ends, and just like I had all the energy and focus I needed for the long trip from Austin to NYC and then crashed when I got here, I think my stamina for the betwixt-and-between is crashing now that it’s almost over.

It’s almost over. It’s almost over. Tonight I will sleep in my own home. My name is on the deed, I can’t be asked to leave. I don’t have a landlord who tells me what I can and can’t do. It’s my home. Tonight. Hallelujah.