new skills

Amusing today to find I do actually learn pretty quickly. Taking Ikea furniture apart in preparation for my move, I was at least 75% faster on the last bookcase than I was on the first.

My landlords are going out of their way to ease the move for everyone, offering to be here to help me with moving furniture when my former housemate gets the carpets professionally cleaned (she had cats), and even to helping me actually move. All that, even though I have booked a moving crew!

ken told me if he can swing it with his buddy, I may be able to tell my movers I don't need them and thereby save a bit of money.

I bought a lovely table from the guy whose suite I'm moving into. I've even started to make plans for decorating it and making it "mine."

Still, I'm a bit numb. I stubbornly hang on to hope. But I know what I haven't really acknowledged completely to myself is what I really want feel and give vent to, all the terrible emotions that I can't persuade myself with any logic to let loose, to allow myself to open up and relieve the pressure a bit. 

But I don't feel them. Not really.  Or they are so far away, I feel a drop once in a while, a whisper of moisture on my cheek and I wonder, "is it raining?"

It is not all grey

Every day, rain or shine, there's a lovely peaceful walk I do that makes a rough loop through lower Gibsons. There are many distractions along the way and it's rarely that I don't stop and pick up a stone or shell from the beach, or take a quick photo. I have decided that it's some sort of human flaw, like greed. Or maybe it's an attempt to stall the inevitable impermanence of things. As if there might not be another day tomorrow. But you see, it's different every time. Just like the waves: I can watch them and watch them and watch them break upon the rocks or on the beach and it's hard to tear myself away. What did people do before cameras? Sketch the scene? A quick water-colour?

grey zone aka stepping into the unknown

Moved in and moving again.

It does seem as if the rug is constantly being pulled out from under my feet. Of course, it isn't, but it's not everybody who finds themselves moving as often as I have.

Still, I continue to be optimistic that eventually I will be in a situation again where I will have real garden space, not just pots on a balcony.

For her own reasons, my housemate is moving, which means I cannot afford this space on my own, and I'm pretty sure I will not find a roommate by the end of the month. Fortunately for me, another suite  downstairs and more affordable, in this house, is available and the landlords offered it to me.

I'm taking it sight unseen. Yes, really. It is comical but at the same time, I feel no fear or worries at all.   I haven't even started packing. Oh, I have contacted the moving guys to help with the heaviest furniture and hopefully they will have an hour or two to spare on a day that coordinates somehow with all the stuff that needs to be coordinated around moving. But, yeah, that's it. Am I irresponsible? Am I resigned? Am I out of steam? Maybe.

What I really think is that this is somehow the next step and I feel incredibly optimistic and calm, in a peaceful kind of way, forward-looking. No objective or rational reason for it besides my belief. That and the fact that my landlords have offered to make sure I can retain the garden space I had started working on, which in the previous arrangement belonged to the upstairs suite my housemate and I currently occupy. They are in fact, going above and beyond, to make the transition easy. All good.

Stay tuned.