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What Happened to the Month of May?

I can’t believe how busy I’ve been for the last three weeks.  I guess it is gardening season, plus I’ve been taking a fairly intensive teaching training course.  And of course there’s the dogs, who always keep me busy.  Oh, and starting to sort and purge for my move at the end of June.  

While I dread actually moving, I think the move itself will be good.  I’ve spent a little time at the new house now, and I really enjoyed it.  It is peaceful and a lot quieter than where I am living now.  I love that my housing complex is as social as it is, and to be honest most of the social interaction I get on a daily basis comes from my neighbours.  Writing a dissertation is an intensely lonely process.  Yet it is one that requires a peaceful and quiet atmosphere in which to write.  And that is simply not something I have where I currently reside.  

This year there seems to be a bumper crop of pre-school aged children with stay at home parents caring for them.  That means that I typically have somewhere between 8-12 kids under four racing around the property along side and behind my house.  Sometimes they are so loud I cannot hear the sound on my computer without headphones.  Definitely not ideal for concentrated writing.

My first project in getting organized for the move has been to prepare my garden.  I have been transplanting my seedlings into containers rather than the ground, and digging up as much of my soil as possible to fill those containers.  I also have been weeding the garden bed at the new house, and this weekend hope to finish turning the soil and actually do some planting.  Last week I gave a couple of my seedling kale plants to my neighbours, who promptly put them in the ground.  Those plants are now twice the size of the ones I have kept in pots.  Time to get planting!  And transplanting.  

I really wish I had some help with all this.  Good thing I have a whole month left to work on this move, because it’s going to eat up most all of my spare time, and much of my work time too.  Moving is a big job, and quite frankly it sucks to do it on your own.

I am trying to make this as positive as possible and am using the move as an excuse to purge as much as I can.  I have to downsize from a two bedroom house to a single, albeit very large bedroom.  Talk about de-stuffing!  

A lot of my stuff has sentimental value and that is hard to let go of.  For example, my living room couch and chair used to be long to my great grandmother.  I have been torn about whether or not to bring them.  The room is actually large enough for a couch and chair.  Yet do I really want to bring them along, this furniture that is not to my taste and would cost more than I would ever spend on furniture to reupholster in a fabric that I like?  It’s a comfortable set, but covered in pink floral fabric that took me three years to find a paint colour to match.  There are holes chewed in several places (thanks to various foster dogs) and just tonight, Mira chewed a battery and it leaked acid all over the central cushion (hopefully she had the sense to spit it out without drinking any of the acid – I’ll have to watch her carefully for signs of toxicity over the next few days).  I think Mira may have had the final say about what to do with the couch.  Maybe I’ll just bring the chair…

And on goes the battle, going through memories.  For what are we without our stuff?  Yet all this stuff weighs me down.  The memories are not necessarily good ones; I suffer from a lot of angst and guilt over my past, for no really good reason other than I feel I was an idiot for much of my life and don’t like to be reminded of my past foolishness.  Most memories just make me cringe.  So why is it so hard to let go of some of this stuff?  They say that to make room for the new, you must let go of the old.  

I need to let go of just about everything I have.

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2 Responses

  1. What you said about memories making you cringe struck a chord. I just heard T.S. Eliot’s poem, Little Gidding, again after a very long time. Funny how hearing it when you’re older changes its meaning. It’s about time and aging and regret.

    And last, the rending pain of re-enactment
    Of all that you have done, and been; the shame
    Of motives late revealed, and the awareness
    Of things ill done and done to others’ harm
    Which once you took for exercise of virtue.
    Then fools’ approval stings, and honour stains.
    From wrong to wrong the exasperated spirit
    Proceeds, unless restored by that refining fire
    Where you must move in measure, like a dancer.

    It would be pretty gloomy but for that last sentence!

  2. Wow, that is pretty intense! I guess we all have our regrets, and life is about learning from them and moving on, like a dancer.

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