Living outside the box: well, for a few weeks more at least

It’s only been a couple weeks since my last post, but in that time it seems like so much has been happening.   In a nutshell, in between medical appointments for this TMJ disorder I’ve been getting my sh-t together for my big move back to my hometown at the end of September.  I’m sitting here in a half empty apartment as I type, much of who I am in stacks of boxes and eating off a paper plate because my dishes are all packed.  I still can’t believe this is really happening, it’s just that up until a month ago I didn’t see myself going anywhere.  This place has been my home for 20 years, hermit-routine included.

Still… I’ve known for awhile now that something had to happen.  As my time away from the hustle n’ bustle of my former working-life stretched past the one year mark and into the second, I was beginning to have some real disquieting feelings.  Having a routine you’re comfortable with is one thing, but this Fortress of Solitude was closing in on me and I wasn’t sure what to do about it.  I wouldn’t wish this godawful TMJ crap on my worst enemy (really—I wouldn’t) but it was probably the catalyst I needed to make a real change.

I’ll be honest here & admit I’m not head over heels in love with the new place—it’s somewhat dated, and has no patio.  It comes with some strict rules (they don’t want a lot of holes in the walls) and being so far from the city, no more free tv—I’m back in Comcast’s pricey cable clutches.  But it’s a well cared for apartment building, on a quiet tree-lined street.  I’ll live just minutes from my family (and my sister has a fine front porch).  I could do worse.

It’s surprising how much a single person can accumulate in just a couple rooms when they’ve lived in one place for 20+ years, and if it wasn’t for my sister Shawn and my brother-in-law Jim, this wouldn’t be happening.  Not only have they made the long drive up here, over & over again to cart out things that WON’T be going with me to my next place (heavy bookcases, a giant microwave, artwork, a glass-top dining table & chairs) my sister helped me go thru piles of clothes and books, even carting & giving much of it away herself (while storing the heavier items for an annual yard sale event back home).  Mostly while I stood here here slack-jawed (pun intended) watching her go, go, go. 

Even my new landlord has gotten in on the act—he picked up my new couch from the furniture store and deposited it in my new place.  “Doug, we have your name on the buzzer downstairs and your mailbox; now all it needs is you & your things!”

I think it will feel like home in no time at all.