Wednesday, Aug. 11, 2004
Compulsive Packing, Transitions
Diaryland ate an entry I'd nearly completed. It seems it has an attitude this morning! No worries – I'm in a mellow mood and I'll survive.
Last night I got some news that I suppose shouldn't have surprised me. I had begun cleaning and packing over the weekend, even though it seemed to be ridiculously premature. I was pretty much compelled to pack, which has only happened a couple of times before. In both cases, turned out to be fortuitous timing, and I guess this held to form, because my landlords want their house back.
I am renting a place owned by my former in-laws (the kids' grandparents). Despite my split with their son a few years before he died, obviously we're on amicable terms. They were called out of retirement to pastor a local church, a job that included a parsonage. Since the parsonage is considerably larger and more comfortable than this place, it only made sense that they'd move in there, which in turn enabled me to rent their home. I didn't care that it was my mother-in-law's tastes. It was a decent place to live and the price was right, so I took them up on the offer.
Now, a few months later, they're considering resigning the church and returning to retirement. I can't honestly say I blame them. It's a challenging job, and they both have dealt with serious health problems over the past few years.
They were also gracious enough to offer to let me stay here with them for a while. Not long-term, obviously, which would drive us all nuts. If I stay with them for a couple of months, it could be an answer to prayers because I could stash back some significant money toward a permanent move. That should be true even if I have to pay storage fees for some of my things. I can deal with almost anything for just a couple of months, especially if it enables me to get a better vehicle and possibly hang onto some of the little things I've worked so hard to acquire.
My former mother-in-law wants to buy my dinette set. While I'd much prefer hanging onto it, if I have to sell it, she might as well have it..
It is exactly the right size for this place, a good color, and all wood. I just hate to leave it behind not only because I really, really like it, but for its symbolic value. It is the first furniture (not counting something little like my bookcase) that I ever got new, and bought because I wanted it. I worked a lot of overtime to get it, too. I've had new furniture twice before but I didn't get to pick it out. When I was married to the kids' dad, I got a substantial personal-injury settlement (see prior entry). He commandeered the money from day one, even though it was legally mine, since the injury occurred before we married. He bought a waterbed (ugh) and a living-room set. I hated both, but didn't have a say in it. They were the only things out of my money that were bought for the house. He gave me hell for spending $500 on clothes for myself and our son, out of tens of thousands of dollars. The rest went to his whims.
With that history, I take great pleasure now in having things I choose and like, even if they're small. I don't spend a fortune and don't need something extravagant – just something I like. Guess that's becoming unneccessarily attached to things, isn't it? And that's something I swore I'd never do. Besides, in a few years I'd probably be sick of that little table and chairs and want something better.
If nothing else, this development makes me glad I didn't buy more furniture. I will probably hold off on the comforter set, too, all things considered. The money would be better invested in a nice suit that would do for an interview, or just saved toward the move.
This is an example of why I put off getting things I need. I simply can't justify the expense when my life is so transitory.
Before - After
In the grander scheme of things, no soul can truly be replaced. Each one of us has a place in the universal tapestry. We each contribute our own color and texture. When one thread is snipped too soon, it distorts all the threads around it. Other lives can unravel and tear. If the wrong thread is ripped away, the whole fabric of life becomes dangerously fragile.
- LeiLani, aka Radiogurl aka Bright Opal (1957 - )