Moving

It isn’t that I believe in horoscopes, but all the attributes of a Virgo belong to me, so maybe there’s some truth in it all. I am a “Place for everything and everything in its place,” kind of girl. I long ago realized that this does not come from some neatness gene, but rather because I hate looking for things. I want the light bulbs, all still good, to be in the light bulb place. I want the fabric scissors, used for nothing but fabric, to be in the fabric scissors place, and the paper scissors to be in the paper scissors place. I want pens–full of ink–in the pen places.

Then again, maybe this horoscope stuff is all hooey. My mother was also a Virgo and never threw away burned-out light bulbs, but put them back in the box with the good ones so that trying to replace a bulb for her was a hit or miss deal. Her house was full of ball point pens with no ink that she wouldn’t throw away “just in case.”

Last week, I sold and closed on the house I lived in and can’t move into the one I bought until September. The dog, my two cats, and I, moved in with my daughter and her seven cats. Can you say, “Meow?”

She is renovating a ‘70s house and we have cement floors because we’ve torn up the carpet and tile. Most of our non-essential and some of our essential belongings are in boxes. The garage is so full of things and boxes; we couldn’t fit a tissue box in there.

I did manage to put together one of those wire-shelf-type things in my bedroom and have my socks and underwear sorted out in plastic shoe boxes. I have two large brown boxes with all my small office supplies dumped in them, a big kitchen box with that ‘stuff,’ you cannot organize, and various boxes containing other unsorted belongings. I spend a lot of time asking, “Have you seen my phone charger?” or “What did I do with the dog’s harness?”

She has no idea what I’ve done with these things, so it’s not sensible that I even ask, but I still do.

She works 12 hour days, so I have some alone time to write my books and play computer solitaire. I have my own half a refrigerator, bedroom, bathroom, and TV room. It helps us survive, because she can’t stand Family Feud and police shows and I can’t stand Family Guy.The need for speed But given the glacial pace at which our modern day life moves on icks.org cialis prescription creates many physical disabilities because of the unhealthy eating habits, least available time for looking after the body condition of self and hormone disturbances. How to get cialis line prescription ? The best way is levitra. Ovidac levitra canada pharmacy 5000IU comprises of a generic drug called Human Chorionic Gonadotropin (HCG). On the off chance that you encounter misfortune or solid reduction in vision or hearing, or erection longer than 4 hours — you should viagra prescription Read Full Report seek immediate medical attention.

All my books except research tomes are packed away, and last night I couldn’t find anything to read but magazines. I would have fired up my Kindle Fire, but I couldn’t find it. If it doesn’t turn up today, I’ll have to go to the library.

On my daughter’s days off, we work together, sometimes on this house; sometimes on another house she owns that we’re getting ready for a new tenant. Of course, the rental takes priority. I clean and paint, she fixes and installs—and she makes all the decisions.

Summer always seems to go on forever here. It was 106’ yesterday. By the time I can move, the worst of the heat will be gone. That’s a mercy. I’ll have my own space, and she’ll have her refrigerator back. I’ll know where everything is and take comfort in that.

It has, however, been my experience that when I move, some things are gone forever, and I have to accept the fact that I’ll never see them again. I packed it up, I unpacked it. I can’t blame anyone else. I don’t know where they go. They’re like socks in the washer, just gone. I’m sure I’ll never see that blue vase again.

Sinbad, one of my favorite comedians, said, “We don’t need prisons for most offenders. Just make them move. That’s punishment enough.”