Moving across the country is hard. Well, let me clarify that. Moving across the country is easy if you don't have anything and don't need anything or don't want anything. I have four boxes of books that I haven't unpacked yet. They are sitting in the corner of my office-type space. I would release them from their cardboard prison, but I have no bookcase for them. Since I've lived a whole month without what I had designated as the very most important books I own and couldn't live without, I'm tempted to push the whole lot into a closet. Or the lake.
But what did I put my books on in Los Angeles, you ask? Well, we lived in a tiny village called Valley Village, and just a hop, skip and a jump away was a little hamlet called Burbank, where there resides a big general store called IKEA. If you've ever had IKEA furniture, you know there's more structural stability in the box that the furniture comes in than in the actual furniture. So after many years, my IKEA bookshelves were a big mess and really depended on the books for support. Sort of like how I depend on Michael. IKEA furniture can barely move across the room, let alone across the continent. It disintegrated and we left it behind.
So a new bookcase goes on the List. In case you didn't know this about me, I am a list maker. This goes way, way back. I've always made lists. Sometimes I make a list of the lists I need to make. Since Michael and I have been together, I now separate every list into two parts: Normal List and Crazy List. My Crazy List is fabulous! For instance, if we're getting ready for a party, I will put "beer" on the Normal List. Then on the Crazy List, I'll write, "Make our own beer from scratch; take a class and learn how...by Friday." I blame the Crazy List in equal parts on Martha Stewart and my best friend Andrea, who taught me that no amount of crazy is too crazy. Usually, everything from the Normal List gets done and then Michael lets me choose one or two things from the Crazy List to throw in. That system has worked pretty well for us thus far.
Since I've been in Asheville, I haven't made any lists. That's a whole month of being list-less. And listless is a pretty accurate description of what's become of me after a month of unpacking. I've never moved on this scale before. I've never needed (or thought I needed) so much stuff just so I can put other stuff on it, in it or underneath it. So last night we had dinner at Chorizo, a local Latin restaurant that was very tasty except for the woman next to us who decided to smoke throughout her entire meal and ours. Come on, Asheville! Ban smoking in restaurants and bars already!
Anyway, at Chorizo, I got out pen and paper and made a List. My first official list in Asheville. Surprisingly, almost everything was on the Normal List: bookcase, rug, lamp. At this point, I'm not going to bother with "smelt copper; make antique lamp." I just want to go get one, so I can read at night. So this weekend, we are going to finish unpacking, move the furniture around for the last time, and really settle in and start to feel at home.
Michael is going to bake cookies. I'm going to make a list of things to do next.