Saturday, June 08, 2013

Something Went Wrong

Thursday I was sitting around waiting for boxes. Trying to remain positive. Doing other things to move the whole moving project along. Wrote my silly little post. At 5 or 6 I called Lowes, they tracked the shipment and discovered it was picked up in South San Francisco at 3:30. OK. South San Francisco is about twenty minutes away. I held out hope for a late delivery but no. Now I have a FedEx tracking number and I see that they will be delivered the next day. I have a Chiropractic appointment, which I need but I decide to move to Monday because I don't want to be gone when the boxes arrive. I'm not happy but I feel like I can still make it work.
Friday morning I track the package and it's on the truck by 8:00 AM. I wait. And wait. At some point I check the Fed Ex site and the package has been taken back to the facility in South San Francisco with no attempt at delivery. WTF? I call and get customer service blahblahblah and am told someone from the local facility will call. They never do.
I'm not really up for what I need to do. I don't have strength, stamina, balance. And still I've been doing it. I've been packing and pushing boxes around and getting it done. But I have to stop and rest so often. And what if I need more boxes? I need to get things (mostly books) packed so that I can see if I have enough. It takes me time. The stress is building and the worst part is I feel so alone. The people I rely on are on vacation, or dealing with family emergencies. People have said they will come to help but aren't saying when. My apartment is torn up.  
This entire process has been troubled by system failures. The post office doesn't get things delivered even when extra money is paid. Bankers don't return emails. Just lots of things not going well and I feel so worn out. I get that moving is always stressful but when I was younger and more able I could deal with it all. I could work a little harder. I could shift and adapt. Now I operate in a narrow band. Things that go wrong narrow it even more.
I mean that's the things we all deal with isn't it? Something went wrong. It happens. We adapt. We deal. Maybe we rant out for a minute and then we recover and we deal. I just don't have an reserve. I don't recover quickly. I guess these are the problems of privilege. People are living in boxes and I'm freaked out because a delivery of them has been delayed. These boxes have been on a truck twenty minutes from my house for three days. It's maddening.
Saturday I get an email from Lowes saying my package has been delayed. Really? I check the FedEx web site and the boxes are on the truck by 7:30 AM. I wait. 10:30. 11:30. 12:30. 1:30. 2:30. 3:30. Debbie calls to take me to the store and just as we're discussing what to do since I can't leave my apartment the buzzer sounds. I push it and shout out the door but no answer. They have left the box full of boxes at the bottom of the stairs.
That happened.
Debbie says she'll help me get it up the steps after we shop so I start out the door and run into a neighbor and his son. His son picks up the box like it's a  box of Kleenex and runs it up the steps. Phew.
A week from now the movers will be hauling stuff out of my apartment. The next day I will walk into the nest. I'm calling the condo the nest. Jennie noticed that I'm moving from Chestnut Street to Oak Street, which I had already noticed and found amusing. I'll be perched in my new tree. In my nest. And things will still go wrong. But for all the reasons I keep listing (no steps, washer and drier, friends close by) it feels like things will be easier. I'll be able to rebuild a reserve.
At least that's my hope.  

Thursday, June 06, 2013

Summer of Jest

I'm sitting here waiting for more boxes to be delivered.
I have so much to do but I'm sitting here.
To be fair I have canceled PG&E, set up cable, changed some addresses. But I've been pacing myself everyday by combining that kind of thing with the more physical act of packing boxes. So today is just almost mellow except for the stress of looking around at all the things I need to be packing. I won't relax until the books are packed. Mostly because I need to know I have enough dang boxes.
I joined a Facebook group reading Infinite Jest. I've wanted to read it and I thought being part of a group might be useful. Maybe even fun. It's not exactly a book to read when your mind is spinning with lists of things to do but I jumped in.
I like DFW. I'd say I love him but I think he would find that odd. How can I love a guy I never met? It's not just about the writing. In fact the writing is a struggle for me. I recognize the skill. He makes me laugh. Out loud. He uses words that thrill me. But he is smarter than me by big numbers and I can't always retain the thread or the structure. I love him because he so totally lucid. Which is hard to experience and also know how he ended. Alas poor Yorick indeed. It seems a bit crazy to take on this book at this time but on the other hand I am so often awake and unable to sleep it kind of works.
So. I'm just sitting here.
I could be reading.
I just ate some yogurt with peaches and berries.
I just ate some triple cream on toast.
Too much dairy. My digestive system will be cranky soon.
Just refreshed Facebook.
Checked Twitter.
Listened to Caroline Casey.    
I've never been sure why but I always get UPS delivery at the end of the day. Just checked the email confirming my order. I don't want to stray too far from the buzzer in case they come.
Tried to take a nap in the chair beside the buzzer. Failed.
Finished a book that I'd already started before I started Infinite Jest.
Watched an episode of Maron.
I'm just sitting here. Waiting. For more. Boxes.

Monday, June 03, 2013


Moving isn't fun but it isn't terrible. I've never really used Twitter much because I've never really understood it but these days I do have a desire to announce every mile stone. The hash tag just came to me. Once you accept the fact that no matter how carefully you pack, something will get broken and no mater how much you plan, something will be forgotten then you just take it one box at at time.
Some nights I can't get to sleep. Some night I get to sleep quickly but wake up in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep. Or I wake up earlier than I want to and can't get back to sleep. Or some combination happens. My appetite is all over the place and I can't think clearly about cooking. I pack box after box and I look around and see how much more there is to pack. I haven't finished one whole room.  
I am a meaning making addict. I know this about my self and often try to adopt a (fill in the blank) is just a (fill in the blank) attitude but I can't stop. I keep thinking about what has happened and what could happen and I burst into tears a few times a day. I also get giddy with excitement a few times a day.
The first time I moved I was three months old. I moved two more times before I graduated from high school and in my young adult life I moved and moved and moved. Until I moved into this apartment. I've lived here for a third of my life. I keep saying that over and over. If I live until I'm eighty it will have been a quarter of my life and will I be in the condo for a quarter? I hope so. Because moving isn't that much fun.
I got a lot done today.
There's so much left to do.
And the clock is ticking.