While there are a few boxes left, I don't feel the need to have 2 coffee pots in use in any kitchen at one time, so I'm basically moved in.
Some of this stuff I didn't even unpack in the home that I shared with my sister, and the walls already carry more of me than the apartment did.
I sleep well, I wake up well, and when thinking of what to do this weekend I am ok with being here.
Sister got a DUI last night.
I got a message from her 12 hours earlier saying "it is still strange not having you here sister".
She hasn't yet explained what happened.
It took me 2 hours to send a reply. I said "I don't know what to say."
6 hours later she asked how the unpacking was going, and that was all there was to that conversation.
I've been gone for a week, and she got herself a record.
Honestly, my first thought, quickly followed by "I got out just in time, and they won't follow me here."
The shock is here.
The solidarity that this is the right thing is what my faith is based on, even if I have no fucking idea what I'm doing here.
I don't feel like I was running away any more than I feel like I came here for any particular reason.
Sometimes though, there is a little familiarity, like I've dreamed this and it's finally here.
It's happened before.
It's de ja vu, but wrapped up in comfort like sheppard's pie with it's blanket of mashed potatoes.
I freaked out, I'm kinda scared, and I really need a map. Other than that, JB has come to visit and given the official seal of approval of the place, as a concerned-for-Sassy citizen, and even hung out long enough to let me scribble some notes on how to get to more than the grocery store, like work. Oh, and his version of Welcome to Jersey that was somehow very close to the Welcome to Vegas I got last week and the Welcome to NYC I got last month.
There will be a whole nuther mental break down on that one, but for now it's nice to have a friendly face and a welcome wagon.
I give it like a month.
Anywho, it feels a little better being here now that the force of Get It Done is gone and it's on to the adventure part of it. And that Sister royally fucked up so quickly makes me know that I needed this. Right now.
Yep, that's what gets me to sleep, that I bailed on my soul sucker sister just in time. Add to that the nausia inducing petrifying panic will have to subside enough to make me put real clothes on and go to work and figure out why the fuck I'm spending Thanksgiving in a parka out side of Macy's for the parade when I've spent the last year sacrificing everything I have for my family.
And there we have it.
Did I ever tell you I was a psych major? Oh, and I was a philosophy major too, if that helps you explain why it takes me so unbelievably long to actually say anything =)
Thanks for the session Dr. Blogger. I'll be vacating the living room soon if only not to puke at the giggle fest of the roomies. Turns out it's a freshie relationship, so that explains why I'm so jealous of how much fun they have together and have to hide in my internet-less, tv-less room. Oh, shit, it's 1am and I have a day job in three days. Damn sitcoms and their hypnotic laugh tracks... no wonder I'm hungry...
Oh, right, word of the day is: Rockettes. I heard a commercial for the 75th anniversary Christmas Celebration and thought "huh, maybe I'll go to the 100th and compare them" which was immediately followed by sitting back in my chair and calculating how old I would be and imagining me as a woman hardened by New Jersey traffic and New York subways with stories of being a kid in shorts at Christmas and Easter. Of course by then NJ and NY might also be warm enough for that, but I'm tangentially filling space again - I promise, if this thing had page markers I could finish the thought as the sentance hit the midline of the last line before starting a new page - turns out everything I know I knew in 8th grade. Moving sucks for more than the bruises.