When it comes to moving, I’m a bit of a monster.
It’s become clear that I’m a full out bitch.
I don’t start off with that intention, but it always ends this way.
After moving my crap around this country eleven times in the last ten years, it’s become clear that I turn into a raving mad awful no good person on moving day.
Hello, my name is CeCe, and I’m a moveaholic.
I forgot this about myself because I hated our apartment in Hyde Park in Chicago, but I get a rush out of settling into a new place. Unpacking boxes and rearranging our items just so gets me going.
All of this sounds positive, right?
When it comes to my feelings about moving into a new place, it’s just not a group activity.
Not even a little bit.
Last night the husband and the future divorcé arrived to our cute little Brooklyn brownstone. They had a UHaul truck mostly full of stuff. We quickly decided that I’d watch the truck and move the items to the edge of the truck. The divorcé would take the items from the back of the truck into the building. The husband’s job was to get the items inside the apartment.
The whole thing took under two hours I think. I honestly wasn’t checking the time. We have a lot of crap, even with the downsize to prepare for New York living. Once we got everything into the apartment, all I wanted to do was setup the bed so I could sleep in my own bed.
I also needed to setup the shelves for the entertainment area and get the TV ready for the cable guy who’s supposed to come today.
When I walked into the apartment and saw how the husband had placed things, I got upset. I was fussing about why the clothes weren’t put into the bedroom and why the coast weren’t put into the closet and why the kitchen stuff wasn’t put into the kitchen and why everything was piled against the wall where I’d already told him the TV would be setup on.
The divorcé offered to help move some things around, but then abruptly changed his mind and rescinded his offer.
That’s when I realized I’d just given him a look of death.
I gave him a how-dare-you-offer-to-help-you’ll-probably-only-just-fuck-it-up-save-yourself-and-get-the-hell-out-of-my-face look.
It was a look the husband knew all too well. All he said was, “we’re going to go park the UHaul somewhere we won’t get a ticket, then we’re going to find food. We’ll see you later.”
I really married the right man y’all. Other guys I’ve dated would’ve reacted in less.. productive ways. But not the husband. He saw the signs of a woman on the rampage and cleared out. Also, he probably didn’t want to have to snap on me after all my fussing. He saved himself and he saved me.
While they were gone, I got to work. There’s just something so great about organizing. I don’t even know how to explain it.
All of the stress I feel when moving to a new place comes lashing out at the nearest person who tries to help. As a personal self-growth note, I really need to fix that shit. I shouldn’t have my loved ones running for the hills just because I’ve moved, especially because I move so damn often.
But all that stress just melts away with each new shelf I setup. And when the bed was fully put together, I really relaxed. By the time the basics were setup, it was after 1:00am and I was overdue to get some sleep so I could get up for work in the morning.
Except one thing.
I couldn’t find the cord to plug in the TV. the way our TV is setup, the power cord can detach. I didn’t remember where I packed it, and I was worried the cable guy wouldn’t be able to get our stuff setup today. But it worked out. The husband found the cord this morning and plugged it in.
Even though I didn’t have the cord when I went to bed last night, I didn’t stress because I knew the husband would handle it. That’s how I knew my release therapy via shelf-building worked.
So now I just have to go home after work and finish unpacking, hopefully while watching the new episode of Property Virgins on HGTV. But that’s not guaranteed. The cable company called while I was writing this post to tell me the guy was running late, and they didn’t know what time he’d get to me.
Lord, let this man arrive today, otherwise I’m going to revert right back to how I was last night. And I don’t think the husband will put up with that shit two days in a row.
This month has been such a flurry of activity, I don’t even know where to start. Things at work are always in flux. We’re transitioning to a new schedule, and increased training. Not to mention, one of our regulators just showed up for a visit/observation. They don’t schedule those, they just show up.
Outside of work, things are also crazy. I can tell you that I’m having as much trouble packing as I did unpacking. I haven’t put a single thing into a box. For that matter, I haven’t even purchased packing supplies. And our lease is up in 12 days. What the hell is wrong with me?
Trying to stay healthy and work out is an ongoing struggle. It’s hard to make the time and find the motivation, but I’m still trying.
My parents just got back from Paris and Amsterdam. I want to be like them when I grow up. How nice it would be to take trips like that. I can barely afford this weekend road trip to New York City with my girls this weekend.
Yup, I’m going to NYC less than a week before I have to move out of an apartment I haven’t even started packing up yet.
Oh, and I’m sick. I’m sick in a the-weather-is-so-crazy-that-we’ve-been-fluctuating-between-air-conditioning-and-heat-in-the-house-and-I-have-no-idea-how-to-dress-so-I-always-end-up-wearing-the-wrong-clothes-for-the-current-weather-and-now-I’m-sick kind of way.
You don’t need air conditioning when it’s 56 degrees out. You do need air conditioning when it’s 86 degrees out. When both happen in less than 12 hours, you can’t plan for that. Sleeping under needless air conditioning literally makes me sick.
Sore throat, headache, sinus pressure, and lethargy. Isn’t the start of summer grand?
There is some good news in all this. In just over a week from now, I’ll be out of Hyde Park for good! It’s a great place to visit and hang out, but I intend to never live there again.
After I’m done being sick, I look forward to a summer without paying rent (yay parents for letting us move in with you while we work out the next step), neighborhood/food festivals, watching the husband play all these great gigs (Chicago Jazz Fest anyone?), and letting things finally even out at work.
Anyone familiar with the Staple Singers? I love music from before and right around the time I was born (this song clearly being almost ten years before). Those people could put together an entire song without ever saying two complete sentences. Good job Curtis Mayfield.
This barely PG song was running through my mind as I was feeling like getting back on top of all the goals I’ve set for myself.
Today is the first day in a while I’ve felt better about work. Things are still up in the air about so many aspects of my department, but at least I’m getting used to it. Having a new boss, having different job duties, and having different employees was really a lot to take in all at once.
I’ve been reading a lot of great blog posts around about how to handle stress. It gave some great tips, but it also just reminded me to acknowledge the stress and not hermit crab myself until it passed. Almost as soon as I looked the stress right in the eye, it dissipated.
I’m still not crazy about things at work, but I have a whole new perspective.
Ah, who am I kidding. I feel better because I see a way out. When you fix one part of your life, the rest seems to feel less important. Our lease on the apartment I’ve come to hate is up June 30th.
Obviously, I’ll be turning Project UnPack into Project Downsize-and-RePack. Wish me luck. I really have no choice but to get shit done in the next couple months. If I tell myself that a few more times, perhaps I’ll really mean it.
Since I’m getting my projects back on task, I’ll take a look at being healthy again. My blog was judging me as Day 90 came and went for the Tracy Anderson Metamorphosis. I really dropped the ball on that one.
If I start again (for the third time), I’ll start back at the beginning. I’m thinking I should. It was going well when I was making time for it no matter what and when I was utilizing MyFitnessPal.
A new friend I met through UBP13 named Danielle over at Motivating Mommy has invited me to friend her on the app/website. She’s my first friend on that site, so I’m looking forward to using that to get back into it. Can you tell I’m barely effective at utilizing social media?
So with Project RePack, starting over at Day 1 for Tracy Anderson, and finding a balance at work, I’ve got an awful lot on my plate. You know what always smooths things out for me? Shopping!
I don’t really have the expendable income to do a lot of shopping for myself, but I can do shopping for others. There are birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays coming up soon. Today, I just purchased the birthday gift for our twin nieces. We’re getting them these adorable old school style lunch boxes. Want to see a sample of what they look like? Of course you do!
If you click the screenshot, it will take you to the Frecklebox website, and you can have a closer look.I purchased two already and the gifts are shipping soon my way customized for each girl. Even though it’s not for me, a bit of shopping really just rounds out my week and takes the edge off.
For clarity’s sake, this wasn’t sponsored at all. If it were, the picture would be better, the post more streamlined, and praise more effusive.
Aside from the shopping-when-I-have-no-money, who’s getting back on track with me? Being healthy, reducing stress, making your
house apartment a home? Let’s do this!
Can someone explain to me why my neighborhood is full of assholes? Just non-parking assholes. Assholes who don’t understand that we’re all living practically on top of each other, so can you please have you domestic dispute a little quieter? I know there are jerks everywhere, but my little south side of Chicago eclectic neighborhood houses a special kind.
Pretty soon, my problems will change. I’m looking forward to June 30th. That’s the day our lease is up. I’m turning Project UnPack into Project Pack The Hell Up.
I’m trying to decide if I want to go the route of trying to sell all the extra crap we have. We really don’t need two beds, but we have it. We really don’t need 3 TVs, but we have it. And we really truly don’t need all the bookcases we have, especially since we bought the Elfa shelves. Wouldn’t it be better to donate everything to Salvation Army or something and get a nice receipt for when we file taxes? I like the idea that my TVs would help someone who would get a great deal at the Salvation Army store.
Aside from packing up and leaving and downsizing all our crap, there are a few other things I’ll be glad to say good-bye to:
- Theft: someone stole the husband’s bike. They stole it from the basement room in our building that houses over 15 bikes. As far as we know, his is the only one missing.
- Gunfire: I hate that I saw two people exchange gunfire outside my apartment. I grew up in the 100s, so gunfire isn’t new to me. But for real, when you have galleries and hotels (not motels) and pets dogs so well trained they don’t need leashes in your neighborhood, you shouldn’t have to also dodge bullets.
- Hypocritical Cops: Having to deal with cops who don’t come when I report gunfire, but who make my parents move for sitting in their car outside our apartment talking before pulling off is some bullshit. I’ve heard more handcuff jokes from cops who were poorly flirting than I’ve seen drive past wearing their seat belts. And we have CPD, University of Chicago PD, and whoever those unmarked cops are because we live a half mile from Obama’s house.
- Poor parking: Aside from the fact that the neighborhood is too congested is the fact that half the residents cannot park. If you know your neighborhood doesn’t have enough parking, why do you purposely park like a jackass? I will never understand the answer to that. And for all you people who are self-aware bad parkers, ignorance is not an excuse. They can tell when they get out of their car that had they only moved up another foot, someone else could park behind them.
At this point, I don’t even care where we live next. As long as there is no parking issues, and the cops come when folks start shooting, I’ll be happy.
Oh, and if I could somehow make my work commute (~90 minutes in traffic currently) more bearable, that would be nice too.
Someone who loves where they live give me a comment so I can live vicariously through you for the next three months!