I’ve got a garage sale with 3-4 other ladies this Saturday. I’ll give more details on Friday, but if you live in the Austin area, mark your calendars for this sale extravaganza of the year.
So… I got a little sad and sentimental for the first time last night. I warned Kabob that this was just the beginning of what will be two weeks of excitement, sadness, stress, and mourning emitting from the Woman He Loves. What we’re doing is pretty different than any move we’ve had before, because even if we didn’t exactly know what our new place would look like, there was always, well, a new place. This time, we’re packing and selling to go… to our car. I mean, eventually, yes, we’ll have a place of our own again, but for the next 4, possibly 5 months, we’ll be nomads, and that just feels weird. As a mama and keeper-of-home, my soul yearns for a nest.
Here’s what’s been weird. Most of our garage sale items are the things we don’t really need - namely, decorations and the like. We’re only saving the absolute essentials, like pots and pans, some books, some clothes. EVERYTHING else is going. Nice things, too - things we’d keep if we weren’t leaving (Hint hint! Come to the garage sale!). And to witness the take-down of the small items that make our home a home, it’s watching our castle deconstruct back to an apartment. Kabob and I have lived in rentals since we tied the knot because this Giant Move has been in the works from day 1 (and if you count our single days, it’s been longer than that). But he and I were both made in such a way as to care what our home looks and feels like - we’re both kinda bent with an aesthetic need. And I have to say, we’ve done a pretty darn good job of making this particular place not feel very apartmenty. We’ve painted walls, he’s hung beadboard, we’ve replaced shabby apartment mirrors with framed ones, and we’ve removed the ugly cabinet doors in the bathroom and kitchen. (Side note: To those of you cursed with ugly cabinets, yet have decent-looking dishes and towels, removing the doors is an instant makeover. We’ve done it at every single place we’ve lived.)
Back to what I was saying. To take down the curtains, the candles, the wall hangings, the doo-hickeys, the bowl where we throw our change, the place where we hang our keys, the magazine basket, the rugs, the display shelves… It sorta feels like a rented shell now. I know this happens with every move, but to know I’ll never see these little things in my home again, it just makes me sad. We’d be keeping this stuff if we weren’t going anywhere. Who knew that I would tear up over our key rack. I’m dreading the day I’ll have to say goodbye to Chickpea’s crib. Oh, save me now.
I’m also still projecting concerns of betrayal and confusion onto Chickpea, even though she has shown zero signs of anything remotely unusual (unless you count her bizarre sleep habits as of late). What makes me think she’ll care that the mirror now hanging in the bathroom isn’t the one she’s seen her entire life, I don’t know. But I’m eyeing her, waiting for the moment she questions her identity and place in this world. I’m psyching up for that minute she’ll realize our coffee table is no longer and duly regress into the fetal position. My sneaky suspicion, however, is that as long as she has her parents, raisins, and Pablo, she really won’t care.
My final thought from last night - When you sell everything down to the light sockets, you realize how important those little items are in your daily life. Where do you put the shampoo when you don’t have your little over-the-spout rack? How about the trash? - We’re resorting to a cardboard box. And the keys will just have to go on the counter, with the timid hope we don’t lose them. Sigh… This will be life as we know it for the next two weeks. By then, it’ll be good to get this show on the road.
I promise… I’ll blog about the good sides of all of this soon. Because there are many.
