House of Pain

SUNDAY. No, not the House of Blues. Not the House of Representatives, nor the House of Lords. Not even the House of the Rising Sun. We're talking sore muscles here. House of Pain. Lifting, hoisting, moving, wheeling, pushing, and shoving heavy furniture is hard work, especially since I'm no longer 29. I'm moving slowly and carefully today, wearing my back brace for stability when I lift heavy things...like the stapler, or a teacup. At this point everything seems heavy. Left foot, right foot, left foot...there! I've taken three steps...

I bought a pair of Forearm Forklift Moving Straps. They make it look so easy on TV and in photos. What they don't tell you is that no matter how you're lifting something, you still have to deal with the weight. Straps don't make things lighter. The word "forklift" certainly gave me an image of "no weight." They also don't tell you that using these straps places the weight on your forearms and elbows, which puts an extra strain on the shoulders. But the straps do, in fact, make it much easier to move bulky things. They will come in handy in a few days when the fridge is moved into the POD, especially if someone else moves it for us. But that probably won't happen. Last time I looked, I didn't see Charles Atlas in our driveway, eagerly awaiting the chance to move our large appliances. Straps or no straps, I just pray we don't have to move the piano in (and out of) the POD.

Packing the POD is a bit like a doing a jigsaw puzzle. M spends huge chunks of time in the POD calculating spaces with a tape measure, then runs back in the house to measure this table, or that chair, and then back out to the POD because she's already forgotten the initial POD measurements. My job is to scout around for things to fill small spaces. We will be amused when it comes time to unload this puppy. I am filling gaps between furniture and boxes with shoes, pillows, even an urn containing the ashes of our last dog. If anyone wants to help us unload the POD in Albuquerque, I will surely decline the offer out of sheer embarassment. The object is to pack everything so tightly that nothing moves or shifts. The POD will mostly likely swing and sway when they load it on a flatbed. And from here it goes to a storage facility for a few days, before loading it back on a flatbed for interstate transport. Between our paved Port Charlotte driveway and our unpaved driveway in the desert, the POD will endure four lifts and drops before we unpack it. That's a lot of potential sway. And as they say, "Shift happens."

I've not felt much like blogging lately. I could offer the excuse of exhaustion, which is certainly understandable and viable, but I think it's more than fatigue. The emotional toll of parting with so many possessions leaves me feeling quite empty. As my house empties, my mind empties. And when my mind empties, I've very little to say. I hope living with an empty mind (and house) will eventually be a pleasant, relaxing change that will unleash unimagined creative energy. For now, though, the contrast is confusing to a brain accustomed to housing much unnecessary and useless information. I've been unconsciously memorizing trivia for decades, hoping that one day I'd make a killing on Jeopardy. In all honesty, though, I think I'll be happier without this mental chazerei. Contemplating an empty house and an empty mind, Buddhism begins to make sense to me.

M is clearing out one of our two storage bins this afternoon while I take a few minutes to blog. We sold some furniture this afternoon. If only I could motivate myself to pack up my bedroom, or start on the few kitchen items we've decided to take--like the Southwest patterned china we've used for the past 10 years. If for no other reason, we are moving to New Mexico so our china matches our surroundings. We've waited long enough.

Zen mind, beginner's mind. Can I really start over so late in life? And more importantly, will a new life be different?

I hope so.

P.S. My eBay penpal has not sent me an insane email for three days. After so many days of nonsense, I feel oddly bereft and wonder where my crazy guy is. He didn't even say goodbye.