Well, my thoroughly insane week has begun.
Yesterday I woke up at nine and was packing boxes by ten. At the end of the day, after hours of boxing and even a few hours at work, I crashed in my bed in a different house I will soon learn to call home.
The morning was a flurry of activity, more and more people coming upstairs and requesting more stuff to move because their pick-ups or cars could fit something else. All the boys helping us 3 girls move were patient and gracious and volunteered to be at our mercy as long as we requested their man muscles and man cars. Just before one'o'clock and shortly after the majority of my stuff had been carted from the house on Dayton Dave took me to work. All day I campaigned to my boss to please please let me go home early, it's not too busy up here, please please I'm trying to move today and you've already consciously overscheduled me on the first week of winter quarter please please don't add inhumanity to your long list of professional faults. I managed to talk my way into a 45-minute early release and bolted back to the new house, wanting to get some semblence of order before I collapsed.
Walking into our amazing new home I marveled at the order they had established in the structure in a single day; walking upstairs and seeing that 80% of the boxes left to unpack were mine was another emotion entirely. But, one hour later, after a few sips of red wine, 2 slices of pizza, and a sufficiently organized bookshelf I felt better. My roommates offered help as often as they could but it was just at that point where you're knee-deep in boxes of your belongings and you just have to figure out where you can put it all; personally finding a home for your belongings just helps you feel at home, too.
After my mom and step-dad came over to drop off several appliances (including company for the pair of spoons in the bare silverware drawer), after Carrie and Chandra went to bed and the house was quiet, after Dave had called to soothe me in my overwhelmed state, I took in the house for myself in its surreal emptiness. As I hung up the phone I was sprawled on the kitchen tiles, cramming food onto my little shelf, marveling at how different the house felt. The cold floor made itself known against my calves, which is a far different feeling than the carpet I'm used to. Getting up from the floor I looked at the walls and realized Carrie was right, the lighter colors made everything seem much more spacious and open. Creeping up the stairs and into bed I felt the narrow hall in unfamiliarity, used to having a large common space right outside my bedroom door; it's weird how spatial sensations like that stick with you. As I plugged in my cell phone I watched the shadows of tree branches play in magnified size against our tall blinds and listened to Carrie's soft breathing, weirded out that I should just have one roommate and one who slept so quietly. And sliding across the covers to pull them down, their cool smoothness reminded me that I had not slept here before tonight.
I lay awake for a while, tired but not quite ready for sleep as the cogs in my brain spun like crazy to keep up with all I was processing. I knew that the next day involved a lot of work and school, and I would come home tired to a bunch of boxes leering up at me from my bedroom floor. I'm not sure how to deal with a week like this except one day at a time.
In the morning, stumbling from my bed in a stupor, I realized that the morning sun lights up my bedroom warmly. I think that's when I realized that I like this house, that it could be my home; and that'll make it easier to come back to it at night, despite the differences from the house on Dayton.
Yesterday I woke up at nine and was packing boxes by ten. At the end of the day, after hours of boxing and even a few hours at work, I crashed in my bed in a different house I will soon learn to call home.
The morning was a flurry of activity, more and more people coming upstairs and requesting more stuff to move because their pick-ups or cars could fit something else. All the boys helping us 3 girls move were patient and gracious and volunteered to be at our mercy as long as we requested their man muscles and man cars. Just before one'o'clock and shortly after the majority of my stuff had been carted from the house on Dayton Dave took me to work. All day I campaigned to my boss to please please let me go home early, it's not too busy up here, please please I'm trying to move today and you've already consciously overscheduled me on the first week of winter quarter please please don't add inhumanity to your long list of professional faults. I managed to talk my way into a 45-minute early release and bolted back to the new house, wanting to get some semblence of order before I collapsed.
Walking into our amazing new home I marveled at the order they had established in the structure in a single day; walking upstairs and seeing that 80% of the boxes left to unpack were mine was another emotion entirely. But, one hour later, after a few sips of red wine, 2 slices of pizza, and a sufficiently organized bookshelf I felt better. My roommates offered help as often as they could but it was just at that point where you're knee-deep in boxes of your belongings and you just have to figure out where you can put it all; personally finding a home for your belongings just helps you feel at home, too.
After my mom and step-dad came over to drop off several appliances (including company for the pair of spoons in the bare silverware drawer), after Carrie and Chandra went to bed and the house was quiet, after Dave had called to soothe me in my overwhelmed state, I took in the house for myself in its surreal emptiness. As I hung up the phone I was sprawled on the kitchen tiles, cramming food onto my little shelf, marveling at how different the house felt. The cold floor made itself known against my calves, which is a far different feeling than the carpet I'm used to. Getting up from the floor I looked at the walls and realized Carrie was right, the lighter colors made everything seem much more spacious and open. Creeping up the stairs and into bed I felt the narrow hall in unfamiliarity, used to having a large common space right outside my bedroom door; it's weird how spatial sensations like that stick with you. As I plugged in my cell phone I watched the shadows of tree branches play in magnified size against our tall blinds and listened to Carrie's soft breathing, weirded out that I should just have one roommate and one who slept so quietly. And sliding across the covers to pull them down, their cool smoothness reminded me that I had not slept here before tonight.
I lay awake for a while, tired but not quite ready for sleep as the cogs in my brain spun like crazy to keep up with all I was processing. I knew that the next day involved a lot of work and school, and I would come home tired to a bunch of boxes leering up at me from my bedroom floor. I'm not sure how to deal with a week like this except one day at a time.
In the morning, stumbling from my bed in a stupor, I realized that the morning sun lights up my bedroom warmly. I think that's when I realized that I like this house, that it could be my home; and that'll make it easier to come back to it at night, despite the differences from the house on Dayton.
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