There are few of us who can settle into one place and stay there for a lifetime. (That doesn't include buying a home.) If I've learned anything over the years, it's the fact that no time is good for moving, at least not in my book. For almost eleven years, Mom and I had a nice apartment but with her passing a few months ago, I was expected to move into a smaller apartment. No problem with that. According to the in-house grapevine, (and it's quite reliable around here) there were several other people waiting to downsize, so I knew it would be a while. In the meantime I was going to turn Mom's room into a sewing room for the duration.
You know Murphy. He's the guy who moves in when you least need him around, but you never see him. He has his own law he follows and his favorite moments are when he can make things go wrong for you: Murphy's Law...whatever can go wrong, will. The day he decided to move in was the day I got the call. Management had an apartment for me. There went the sewing room. When I saw the place, I realized it was perfect for me and I couldn't wait to move in. I still intended to set up a sewing corner and I had the perfect spot.
Never move during a heat wave, even if you are staying in the same building. After every trip my son and daughter-in-law made to bring up a large or heavy piece of furniture, they made a mad dash for the Solarium to cool off. Murphy must have taken pity on them because it wasn't until two days later that the Solarium was closed for repairs. It's not so much the heat but the humidity that'll do you in.
The bathroom was the first to be sorted out and settled, followed by my room. The sewing machine table, still in its carton, was leaning against the wall beneath a window. That was next to be attended to, or so I thought. Murphy had his own plans to disrupt mine. Two weeks later and that poor table is still waiting. Maybe it'll be set up by Christmas?
Murphy has even messed with my writing, the stinker. In the process of moving, the printer cable has gone missing and my laptop's start menu has nothing in it. Blessings on my computer tech son who suggested a way around that problem till he can actually figure out what went wrong. There has to be a plot in all this. Not that I want to give Murphy any more notoriety because he certainly doesn't deserve it. But maybe there can be found some humor in the situation that could translate to a challenge for a story character. It's worth thinking about.
After the last three weeks of hauling cartons to the third floor, stacking them in whatever out of the way spots I can find, deciding what goes and what stays, dealing with the hot weather and a houseguest who was never invited, I can say without a doubt... This building can grow old and fall down around my ears I am NEVER moving again.
1 comment:
HAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I can relate. In June of 1996, we moved to a house. We lived there until in the spring of 2010 the landlord goes oh I want you to move. I'm going to remodel the house and move back in. We searched high and low for a place to move to. Nothing met our needs or standards. Finally, as time ran out, I called my sister and asked her if we could stay with her for a few weeks until we could find a place of our own and I could find a job. I had visions of getting back on civil service, working Mon-Fri and being off on weekends.
Didn't happen that way. We didn't find a place we could agree on, or afford if we did. I didn't get on civil service, and there was no way I was going back to "playing store" aka working on a convenience store. It turned out for the best, the hubby got sicker, had to spend time with him in the hospital, then taking him to and from the doctor and dialysis as his health declined. He died November 30, 2011. I grabbed the chance to move out in February of 2012. I struggle every day. I have boxes I haven't unpacked, a bedroom full of things needing to be gone through. Stuff on the patio that needs me to go through it and it has been 4 years sigh.
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