Not bad for a fat girl



The house is quiet except for the sound of rain against the windows and roof, and the soft snoring coming from both the couch and the love seat. I couldn’t be happier.

We’re in transition, this little family of mine. There are four of us, three humans and a dog. My sixteen-year-old son stretches his lanky body across the long couch, breathing in and out rhythmically to the sound of the rain. My fiancé is on the love seat, one leg bent across the arm, the other on the floor, occasionally letting out a noise to let me know he’s still alive and asleep. They have both fallen asleep without meaning to, victims of their own exhaustion.

a_sleeping_dad_on_the_couch_0515-1005-1302-0329_SMUThey are missing the summer storm, with its steady rain and gently rumbling thunder. The dog has settled at my feet, more out of comfort than any sort of alarm. We are all at peace tonight.

I was a little worried. We are in the midst of a move, and we’re in temporary quarters. We had a 1,765 square foot, four-bedroom house that we sold. We’re moving into a 2,200 square foot, four-bedroom house, but it’s not ready yet. Right now we’re in a space that is about 750 square feet and has two bedrooms. Oh, and it was completely full when we got here.

There is not a single empty drawer or even two inches of closet space available in this house. There is no room in the medicine cabinet, the kitchen cupboards, or even on the counters. We have items in suitcases on the floor, items stashed under the one bed, and items under the kitchen table. We have a laundry hamper in the living room, next to a filing cabinet, behind the couch. You might say it’s a little cramped. Still, it’s a roof over our heads, and it’s rent-free at that. I can’t complain. I won’t complain. The air-conditioning works, there is a fridge and two functioning bathrooms, there’s a washer and dryer, and there’s a lovely swimming pool a short walk away. We’re set. Crowded, but set.

Tonight I’m feeling gratitude, not just that we have this place to stay, but that we are together. My son and my fiancé are the two most important people in my life, and the fact that they’re both snoring away on the couches just a few feet from where I’m writing makes me incredibly happy. They could have each retreated to their separate corners, but they didn’t. They could have been self-conscious about letting their guard down, but that wasn’t the case. They are both totally at home here, even amongst all the stuff that I feel is choking us. They aren’t craving solitude, they are embracing togetherness.

I was worried about the lack of space. I was worried that we would begin to get on each other’s nerves and argue, but that hasn’t happened. We’ve adjusted. They’ve adjusted, and they’ve taught me that I can adjust too.


Bursting at the Seams

I find myself in transition, again. I’m glad we’ve moved out of our house successfully. It was a challenge. Every time it seemed we were almost done it turned out that we weren’t. There was so much stuff to pack up and so many little jobs to do before we could officially walk away knowing that we were, in fact, done. It was stressful and exhausting. The good news is, we did it. We closed, the proceeds have been deposited (waiting to be applied to the new house), and that particular house is no longer home.3531319464_cartoon_lady_closet_xlarge

The down side is that the new house isn’t yet home either. We’re still in the purchasing process for that one, which is fine, since the seller is doing some work before we take possession. It’s nothing major, a couple of the light switches got wired funky and the skylight has a crack, things like that. None of them are structural or dangerous, but they should all be done, and if I had to get them fixed it would add up quickly. The good news is that everything should be done by the end of the month, and we should be able to move it and start making it home.

So where does that leave us now? Sofa surfing, baby. We’re staying in a very nice, cozy little home. We’re the only ones here right now, which is great, because there’s barely enough room for the three of us and the dog. It’s a vacation home, and it’s filled to the gills. It was before we got here, and then we showed up with our stuff. Suitcases and laundry baskets and computers and a filing cabinet and a kennel and groceries… OH MY. You can barely walk across a room without tripping on something.

Each area of the home is completely packed with stuff. The sofas are covered in sheets, and I’m keeping them covered so the dog doesn’t get them furry. The kitchen counters hold our groceries that don’t belong in the fridge, and there’s about a one foot by two foot area that I’ve managed to clear off for food prep, but I can’t prep anything in there. It’s just too cramped. There’s no microwave, and it’s too darn hot to run the oven, so we’ve been going out. That needs to stop. I need to pick up some fruit and we need to stick to fruit, sandwiches, and cereal. We can do that.

Just because the house is bursting at the seams doesn’t mean that I have to. I need to get back on track and start losing again, instead of gaining. Time to refocus and make better choices. Here we go again!

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Moving Meltdown

Yesterday I walked through my house for the last time. By the close of business today it will no longer be mine, and I’m really okay with that. In fact, I’m glad. It took a long time to sell that house, and I’m ready to move on.

Why, then, did I lose it when I said goodbye to the house yesterday? You would think I would have been doing the happy dance out the door, but nope, I was boo hooing instead.

Maybe it was the heat. After all it was 107 degrees out yesterday (yes, literally) and we worked all day packing up the last odds and ends and cleaning up after ourselves. Two trips to storage with random items and then two carloads at the end to take to our temporary home took its toll in the heat, right?woman_crying_2

Or it could have been that I was just plain tired. Friday night I was up late preparing for the movers, who arrived very early on Saturday. The whole weekend was a whirlwind of activity with not enough rest. Maybe that’s what lead to my emotional state.

Then again, it could have been the relief that I felt that we were finally closing the door to this chapter so we could move on to the next. The development that is being built across the street is moving along, and I feel like we’re getting out in the nick of time. That’s not really the case, after all it’s not a detox center for psychotic baboons or anything like that, but it is an eyesore.

I’m sure that all of those factors came into play, but what hit me hardest were the memories that we made in that house. We weren’t there long, just two and a half years, but we lived there at a huge transitional time in my life. I was on my own after a long marriage ended, and I was starting a new relationship with the man I wish I had met twenty years sooner (but neither of use was ready for the other then, so it all worked out). My son and I moved in on our own and made the place ours. I wrote the manuscript for my first novel in that house. We celebrated birthdays and Christmas and even Thanksgivukkah there! That house was a haven and I will always remember it with fondness.

I guess it’s not surprising that the tears started flowing yesterday. They say that moving is one of the most stressful events in a person’s life. It seems silly in my case, since I moved by choice, but it still took its toll. Thankfully I have a little time to recover before we close on our new house and do it all again. Somehow, though, I don’t think there will be any tears on that particular moving day, unless they’re tears of relief and joy.