In which I am conflicted, maudlin, and frustrated
So. Hi. I haven't posted in an age. Things have been nuts here since, like, forever, and it's only getting nutsier.
Here's a brief recap of me since July.
July:
* Went to France with Marc. Got engaged.
* Came home. Started dealing with the fact that we're getting married.
* Did some other stuff that, frankly, I can't even remember anymore.
August:
* Hosted my mother and aunt for two days and introduced them to Marc's parents.
* The French Kid arrived on the 7th.
* Spent August 7-9 at Lollapalooza. Had a fantastic time.
* Renewed acquaintence with Matt, uber designer at EvilCorps, who has agreed to design our wedding invitations in exchange for beer. Awesome.
* Saw AC/DC again! LOUDLY AWESOME.
* Began reading from my fall class's preliminary reading list--12 books.
* Signed contract for the venue for our wedding! Love it!
* Made agreement with humanistic rabbi, who will marry us before sundown on a Saturday and who will "talk to us, not to God" during the ceremony.
* Generally spent the month running around like a madwoman between home and work and various appointments and places, all while trying to entertain an 18-year-old French kid who WILL NOT GO ANYWHERE BY HERSELF OTHER THAN THE PARK ACROSS THE STREET. Ranted a lot to some incredibly patient people.
* Packed, little by little.
* Got full reading list for fall class. 82 books. WHAT THE FUCK, DOMINICAN???
* Had new storm windows and screens put in; had shower torn out and rebuilt and tiled. Cost = roughly $5,000.
September:
* Packed more.
* Devised devious plan whereby Gennie and I split the reading and supply each other summaries of the books we haven't read.
* Went to first class. Deviously revised reading-splitting plan to include talking points for books we haven't read so it is less obvious that we haven't read them.
* Took TFK bowling for her last night.
* Airport run.
* PACKING OMG MOVERS COME SUNDAY.
Did I mention PACKING OMG MOVERS COME SUNDAY? Because, yes. I'm moving in with Marc this weekend. Which is fantastic. But in the shorter term, it is an enormous pain in the ass, because moving sucks, and it's exactly the wrong time to try to sell a vintage one-bedroom condo in this area. And because all the friends who might have helped me move are currently in other states (and, holy shit, does Jenn owe me a move--I moved that woman in and/or out of apartments FIVE TIMES), and my lovely local friend who was going to help has been stricken by some horrid flu and couldn't come. I bear her no ill will. I just wish I weren't here doing this by myself, you know? With, like, four thousand things still to pack.
You may ask: "Where is Marc?" Well, I'll tell you. He's home clearing some floor and shelf space at his place, because despite us having been planning this move since June, and despite asking me for direction and getting it from me in the form of easy-to-follow-and-check-off lists of tasks to do organized by weekend on which to them, he didn't really start clearing any space out until today. He will be over tomorrow to help with the Goodwill runs and the final packing, but for the time being, I'm on my own.
I just... You know, I can't even count the number of times I've helped friends move in and/or out of their places. It's a large number. And a few of them I've helped two or more times. What I can count is the number of times anyone has helped me. Kyla and the girls in 1996. Sean, Heidi and Gareth in early 1998. Laura in 2001. That's it, in 12 years. So here's a note to everyone I've helped move. Y'all owe me one.
And then there's the conflicted and maudlin part. I'm leaving my home. I've been here since May 2001. I was chronically broke for five of those years, trying to pay my mortgage. I wrote an original novel here, and what appears to be the culmination of my fandom oeuvre. I figured out how to be OK on my own here. It's only ever been MY place. And as much as I loathe it sometimes for all the hardships that have come along with it, it is MINE. It's the only thing of real value I've ever obtained for myself. And I'm just leaving it. Don't get me wrong. I'm so excited to start get into the part of my life that is Me and Marc Together. But it's weird, and I feel all schitzo about it.
/self pity and bitchiness. Maybe.
Okay. I have so much more shit to pack, and I should get back to it. I should probably also take eight or so ibuprofen to fend off the back strain I could feel starting five hours ago.
Oh! One more moment of self pity! My SPN DVDs are waiting for me at my work address, where I will not be again until next Thursday due to holiday weekend, working from home to accomodate moving/cleaning/painting, and off-site meeting. WOE!! And then I went and scheduled our meeting with the rabbi for September 10 without having realized what was happening on that date. So I'm in SPN denial for a bit. Woe. I have my S3 DVDs out for the night and will eventually treat myself to beer and "Mystery Spot" as a packing reward. (OMG houseguests who won't watch anything with any violence or sadness SUCK. I have not watched ANY TV or DVDs of my own since TFK got here, and possibly since Juneish.)
Catch you all later.
Here's a brief recap of me since July.
July:
* Went to France with Marc. Got engaged.
* Came home. Started dealing with the fact that we're getting married.
* Did some other stuff that, frankly, I can't even remember anymore.
August:
* Hosted my mother and aunt for two days and introduced them to Marc's parents.
* The French Kid arrived on the 7th.
* Spent August 7-9 at Lollapalooza. Had a fantastic time.
* Renewed acquaintence with Matt, uber designer at EvilCorps, who has agreed to design our wedding invitations in exchange for beer. Awesome.
* Saw AC/DC again! LOUDLY AWESOME.
* Began reading from my fall class's preliminary reading list--12 books.
* Signed contract for the venue for our wedding! Love it!
* Made agreement with humanistic rabbi, who will marry us before sundown on a Saturday and who will "talk to us, not to God" during the ceremony.
* Generally spent the month running around like a madwoman between home and work and various appointments and places, all while trying to entertain an 18-year-old French kid who WILL NOT GO ANYWHERE BY HERSELF OTHER THAN THE PARK ACROSS THE STREET. Ranted a lot to some incredibly patient people.
* Packed, little by little.
* Got full reading list for fall class. 82 books. WHAT THE FUCK, DOMINICAN???
* Had new storm windows and screens put in; had shower torn out and rebuilt and tiled. Cost = roughly $5,000.
September:
* Packed more.
* Devised devious plan whereby Gennie and I split the reading and supply each other summaries of the books we haven't read.
* Went to first class. Deviously revised reading-splitting plan to include talking points for books we haven't read so it is less obvious that we haven't read them.
* Took TFK bowling for her last night.
* Airport run.
* PACKING OMG MOVERS COME SUNDAY.
Did I mention PACKING OMG MOVERS COME SUNDAY? Because, yes. I'm moving in with Marc this weekend. Which is fantastic. But in the shorter term, it is an enormous pain in the ass, because moving sucks, and it's exactly the wrong time to try to sell a vintage one-bedroom condo in this area. And because all the friends who might have helped me move are currently in other states (and, holy shit, does Jenn owe me a move--I moved that woman in and/or out of apartments FIVE TIMES), and my lovely local friend who was going to help has been stricken by some horrid flu and couldn't come. I bear her no ill will. I just wish I weren't here doing this by myself, you know? With, like, four thousand things still to pack.
You may ask: "Where is Marc?" Well, I'll tell you. He's home clearing some floor and shelf space at his place, because despite us having been planning this move since June, and despite asking me for direction and getting it from me in the form of easy-to-follow-and-check-off lists of tasks to do organized by weekend on which to them, he didn't really start clearing any space out until today. He will be over tomorrow to help with the Goodwill runs and the final packing, but for the time being, I'm on my own.
I just... You know, I can't even count the number of times I've helped friends move in and/or out of their places. It's a large number. And a few of them I've helped two or more times. What I can count is the number of times anyone has helped me. Kyla and the girls in 1996. Sean, Heidi and Gareth in early 1998. Laura in 2001. That's it, in 12 years. So here's a note to everyone I've helped move. Y'all owe me one.
And then there's the conflicted and maudlin part. I'm leaving my home. I've been here since May 2001. I was chronically broke for five of those years, trying to pay my mortgage. I wrote an original novel here, and what appears to be the culmination of my fandom oeuvre. I figured out how to be OK on my own here. It's only ever been MY place. And as much as I loathe it sometimes for all the hardships that have come along with it, it is MINE. It's the only thing of real value I've ever obtained for myself. And I'm just leaving it. Don't get me wrong. I'm so excited to start get into the part of my life that is Me and Marc Together. But it's weird, and I feel all schitzo about it.
/self pity and bitchiness. Maybe.
Okay. I have so much more shit to pack, and I should get back to it. I should probably also take eight or so ibuprofen to fend off the back strain I could feel starting five hours ago.
Oh! One more moment of self pity! My SPN DVDs are waiting for me at my work address, where I will not be again until next Thursday due to holiday weekend, working from home to accomodate moving/cleaning/painting, and off-site meeting. WOE!! And then I went and scheduled our meeting with the rabbi for September 10 without having realized what was happening on that date. So I'm in SPN denial for a bit. Woe. I have my S3 DVDs out for the night and will eventually treat myself to beer and "Mystery Spot" as a packing reward. (OMG houseguests who won't watch anything with any violence or sadness SUCK. I have not watched ANY TV or DVDs of my own since TFK got here, and possibly since Juneish.)
Catch you all later.