My life does not fit in this apartment.
That's a metaphor and accurate, too. I realize this, dismiss it, and try to shut the door again. Any door. Every door. There is only one door in this entire apartment that actually closes completely and that's the door that divides this tiny world from the slightly larger one outside. I kick an empty box into a stacked pile of full boxes. I have another realization.
I hate cardboard boxes more than anything in this world. Well... not quite. Almost.
Work is going well except for it being completely awkward now and foreign. No. That's not right. It's only strange to me because I'm the foreign one. The import. The transfer. The latest, greatest thing. Possibly that last statement is only in my own mind and if I believed it that would make me quite a smug, arrogant little bastard. I suppose I do, half the time. I enjoyed my first day of work - the first of two days at the first of our two recently completed sites. Could that be any more vague or confusing? I doubt it, unless I elaborated about the rest of my schedule for this week. Bottom line: I'm temporary and random. I fill space and time, where ever that is needed. I won't have a permanent placement until September. Until then, I float. I commute. I meet, interact, find my way, adapt, progress, prepare. Like I said, I'm enjoying it despite the awkwardness or maybe simply because of it. I enjoy the challenge. The oddity is amusing and pleasing in ways I hadn't expected. I am simply enjoying the constant change. I'm not bored and that's wonderful.
I have most of my things unpacked now. The rest of my precious personal effects will have to stay in boxes until I can devise some brilliant storage system to overcome the extreme space limitations of my new apartment. It had occurred to me that moving from a three bedroom house into a two bedroom apartment might create a few problems as far as just finding somewhere to put everything - all the things I just couldn't do without and will probably never use and never have. Things I own but for no good reason.
I've donating everything I own to Goodwill tomorrow. I only wish it were that easy. I can commit 1/4 of everything I own to Goodwill. That seems appropriate. Once I get the time and will to make that happen, it will be a little easier to breathe in here.
I'm waiting for my previous life to catch up with me, regarding the postal forwarding system anyway. There's a check floating out there in limbo somewhere with my name on it. Two of them, actually. Other things as well, I'm sure. But, who cares? I want money. I got to get paid.
Today, around noon, I realized that I don't know a single person in this entire state except for the few people I've met through work. I could not keep that ridiculous smile from creeping across my face. It's fantastic. Absolutely brilliant. Now, anyway.
My first night in the apartment was rough. That's after spending the previous night packing everything I own into a Uhaul, connecting an auto trailer, loading the Jeep onto that, and then sleeping on the floor of my empty house. That's also after saying all my goodbyes the next day, driving 300 miles, unloading the Jeep off the auto trailer, disconnecting the auto trailer, driving to my apartment, unpacking the Uhaul, driving back to the rental agency to exchange Uhaul for Jeep, driving back to my apartment, and then sleeping on the floor of my box-filled apartment. That night was rough. I did some unpacking but the reality of my situation was overwhelming.
I've never been this alone.
I realized it was true and almost cried. I didn't, of course, but I felt like I might for a moment or two. I've been living on my own at Tatterdemalion for six months previous to this, but that was back in Ohio and within minutes of driving to any number of people's homes. Friends, family... people I knew. There have always been people for me no matter where I've gone. There's always been someone there. Even if I didn't particularly care for those people, they were there.
My sister came down the next day and stayed through the week. I really, really needed that. Way more than I'll ever admit, I did. In return, I refused to let her help me unpack anything for the first day. We did unpack the kitchen, living room, bathroom, and some of the office before she left. I unpacked my bedroom and office after she had gone. It was more manageable then. I was stable. I had regained my composure and motivation by then.
I'm a silly bastard. I know. Whatever. I don't even care.
For the first time since I began this whole process, I actually believe I can pull it off rather than just manage to survive. I can make a go at this. I can live here. Or I can, once I can find a way to fit my life into this apartment. Still, none of these doors will close. I suppose that's another metaphor.
As long as I don't start burning bridges, I should be fine. I cross three of them every day.
That's a metaphor and accurate, too. I realize this, dismiss it, and try to shut the door again. Any door. Every door. There is only one door in this entire apartment that actually closes completely and that's the door that divides this tiny world from the slightly larger one outside. I kick an empty box into a stacked pile of full boxes. I have another realization.
I hate cardboard boxes more than anything in this world. Well... not quite. Almost.
Work is going well except for it being completely awkward now and foreign. No. That's not right. It's only strange to me because I'm the foreign one. The import. The transfer. The latest, greatest thing. Possibly that last statement is only in my own mind and if I believed it that would make me quite a smug, arrogant little bastard. I suppose I do, half the time. I enjoyed my first day of work - the first of two days at the first of our two recently completed sites. Could that be any more vague or confusing? I doubt it, unless I elaborated about the rest of my schedule for this week. Bottom line: I'm temporary and random. I fill space and time, where ever that is needed. I won't have a permanent placement until September. Until then, I float. I commute. I meet, interact, find my way, adapt, progress, prepare. Like I said, I'm enjoying it despite the awkwardness or maybe simply because of it. I enjoy the challenge. The oddity is amusing and pleasing in ways I hadn't expected. I am simply enjoying the constant change. I'm not bored and that's wonderful.
I have most of my things unpacked now. The rest of my precious personal effects will have to stay in boxes until I can devise some brilliant storage system to overcome the extreme space limitations of my new apartment. It had occurred to me that moving from a three bedroom house into a two bedroom apartment might create a few problems as far as just finding somewhere to put everything - all the things I just couldn't do without and will probably never use and never have. Things I own but for no good reason.
I've donating everything I own to Goodwill tomorrow. I only wish it were that easy. I can commit 1/4 of everything I own to Goodwill. That seems appropriate. Once I get the time and will to make that happen, it will be a little easier to breathe in here.
I'm waiting for my previous life to catch up with me, regarding the postal forwarding system anyway. There's a check floating out there in limbo somewhere with my name on it. Two of them, actually. Other things as well, I'm sure. But, who cares? I want money. I got to get paid.
Today, around noon, I realized that I don't know a single person in this entire state except for the few people I've met through work. I could not keep that ridiculous smile from creeping across my face. It's fantastic. Absolutely brilliant. Now, anyway.
My first night in the apartment was rough. That's after spending the previous night packing everything I own into a Uhaul, connecting an auto trailer, loading the Jeep onto that, and then sleeping on the floor of my empty house. That's also after saying all my goodbyes the next day, driving 300 miles, unloading the Jeep off the auto trailer, disconnecting the auto trailer, driving to my apartment, unpacking the Uhaul, driving back to the rental agency to exchange Uhaul for Jeep, driving back to my apartment, and then sleeping on the floor of my box-filled apartment. That night was rough. I did some unpacking but the reality of my situation was overwhelming.
I've never been this alone.
I realized it was true and almost cried. I didn't, of course, but I felt like I might for a moment or two. I've been living on my own at Tatterdemalion for six months previous to this, but that was back in Ohio and within minutes of driving to any number of people's homes. Friends, family... people I knew. There have always been people for me no matter where I've gone. There's always been someone there. Even if I didn't particularly care for those people, they were there.
My sister came down the next day and stayed through the week. I really, really needed that. Way more than I'll ever admit, I did. In return, I refused to let her help me unpack anything for the first day. We did unpack the kitchen, living room, bathroom, and some of the office before she left. I unpacked my bedroom and office after she had gone. It was more manageable then. I was stable. I had regained my composure and motivation by then.
I'm a silly bastard. I know. Whatever. I don't even care.
For the first time since I began this whole process, I actually believe I can pull it off rather than just manage to survive. I can make a go at this. I can live here. Or I can, once I can find a way to fit my life into this apartment. Still, none of these doors will close. I suppose that's another metaphor.
As long as I don't start burning bridges, I should be fine. I cross three of them every day.
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