this blog began as a section on my site called “Infinite Diarrhea” which I took down very shortly after starting it because … people were reading it. This, in turn, was causing problems in my already failing marriage …
Virtually everything I own is sealed away in boxes – has been for almost three weeks now, with no end in sight.
This move has been a debacle. With Sharon out of commission due to her thumb injury, my daughter being too young and small to carry much, my Mom similarly incapacitated by age, and no young friends of my own, it has fallen to me to move nearly everything. True, we did have two days there where Sharon’s friends from the boating community showed up to help – mostly men and women in their 50’s and 60’s – and they did move lots, we would have been sunk without them but Sharon owns nearly three (four?) households worth of crap and two days amounts to only about 60% of the move, if you can believe it.
I have worked a couple of 18 hour days on this move – on top of school and my paying job – and I am falling apart. My back is fried, my shoulders crimped, my emotions frazzled. At the end of everyday I have the move to look forward to. The move, the move.
I want to build a bonfire of belongings. I want to plant dynamite in the garage where the aggregate has collected like the scree of some societal collapse. I want to buy a shotgun and paint the walls with my brain.
Otherwise, everything is going just dandy.
