I’m in the final countdown to move day. Three days from now, two men (and their truck) will be here to haul boxes, lift my fabulous red couch, and in general just uproot my life to somewhere new.
It’s all a bit bittersweet. As much as I hate my landlord and wish I lived somewhere nicer, I feel like I’ve made a home here in my little neighborhood and I’m sad to see it go.
Then again, I’m already working to create a new “home”. Today, I hauled my high-heeled self to the Secretary of State and changed my address so that I can vote in the City of Detroit. After all the scandal our local government has seen, I decided that if I was going to move downtown (and pay the exorbitant car insurance rates that come with it), I wanted to be able to have a say on things. I’ve always kept my parents’s address on my driver’s license and voted in that district, but it’s no longer representative of who I am. Finally making the change is a big deal.
So while I’m sad to say good-bye to one way of life, I’m anxiously embracing a new way.
I’m also anxiously awaiting the whole moving thing. It must be the Army brat in me, but I love to move. I hate the transition of being half packed and half unpacked, but I love the act of packing and unpacking. In fact, it’s the only time my stuff gets a good cleaning as I dust all the shelves and pictures and trinkets before carefully wrapping them up. Then on the other end, I love unpacking and starting fresh. Re-organizing my stuff and finding a new place for everything. I’ve gotten this whole move thing down to a science, so for me, it’s a finely orchestrated plan with nightly goals, labeling protocol, and checklists. And oh how I love to check things off!
Only three more days.