Scenes From a Move

Jesus Christ, we're almost done putting our shit away.

Alright, it's not shit by any means, of course. By this point in our mission to Get Organized, however, anything and everything seems expendable. Two pairs of jeans I hope to fit into again someday? Chuck it. Nice bowls and serving dishes that come out with company? Toss 'em. Kazillion kitchen do-dads? Fuck 'em.

Our wonderful possessions somehow multiplied like rabbits in the three years since we moved back to El Paso. Prior to these past two weeks, I had a devil-may-care attitude about my living space. Moving to another apartment or even out of town seemed like a piece of cake. Just a matter of throwing Filomena and her three beds into the car, pack up some books and my antique chest of drawers and LET'S GO.

How silly of me.

Somehow we've acquired books and pieces of furniture and linens and lamps and extension cords and who-the-hell-knows-what-else. They are all so very necessary, you see. And yet, they all weigh oh-so-much and take a long time to put away.

I didn't start crying until Wednesday. We were in the old apartment, cleaning the kitchen, laundrycloset, vacuuming. I could not understand why it was taking us forever to do these few chores, It was almost as if G. and I were utter slobs who never cleaned anything ever (which we aren't, really we aren't). About four hours in I found myself sitting in the bathroom in utter despair. I shed a few tears (my eyes were already watery with the dust) and quietly bemoaned my fate for a few minutes. And then I dragged myself over to kitchen to clean the sink.

Even then, beneath the self-pity I knew I was overreacting and being ridiculous. That ridiculousness was affirmed later that evening. The local news reported a story about a woman whose home was partially destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. She had moved whatever belongings she could salvage into a storage place in West El Paso. Last week, the waterflow off the mountains and floods washed away the back wall of the storage place and took most of those possessions that managed to survive the hurricane. They are now strewn throughout a ravine. She was planning on moving those items into her new home this week.

So, now I feel like an asshole.