… then it's moving you away from your goals." — Brian Tracy
I know I’ve been rather quiet lately on my blog, but it’s simply because so much has been happening these past several weeks that I’m lucky I wake up in the morning with my head still attached. You see, I’ve spent the past six years living with my mom. It’s been both a blessing and a curse; I’m incredibly blessed to have a mother who instead of having me pay her rent, encouraged me to pay down my debt which I accomplished last month. I am completely free from debt with the exception of my cell phone bill. On the other hand, as with all children who find themselves living with their parents after major setbacks such as divorce or unemployment, it was a pain in the arse to have someone try to force her laundry habits, her cleaning habits, and all sorts of other stuff I have my own way of doing on me.
Not that living with me has been a treat for my mom either. I have hoarded an entire shelf to myself in the shower. The majority of my wardrobe is in our basement; though in my defense, it’s rather understandable when you take into consideration that our house was built in 1924 and as a result, my closet is a whopping 3’ x 3’. Yes, you read that correctly. And having two cats, one with a complete set of claws, doesn’t help either, I know.
All of this being said, I’m happy, no, giddy to announce that I’M MOVING OUT!
It’s happened so fast, my head is still spinning. I signed my lease on Monday, September 26, and was able to move in on Saturday, October 1. I made my final payment on my 10’ x 15’ storage unit in Chicago and managed to hire a moving company to transport all of my belongings on Sunday, October 2nd.
It was bittersweet. I miss living in Chicago, and driving along the lakeshore that beautiful Sunday morning made me unbearably disappointed that I wasn’t moving back. It was also a hugely expensive undertaking keeping my storage unit for that length of time, and to have it transported back to Michigan. There were many times over the past six years when I was tempted to call the storage company and just say, “I give up. I give it all up. Have a Storage Wars episode based on my unit, whatever, I’m not paying this anymore.”
But that Sunday morning, when the movers found a white box from St. Julian’s winery filled with photos, every single payment I made these past two years was worth it. As my dad and I started going through the box, the laughter, the tears and the choked laughter made it obvious even to the two non-English speaking movers that something so priceless had been found as to be considered a small miracle.
You have no idea how many temper tantrums and crying jags I had over what condition I’d find my belongings in. Between the weather, whether it was single-digit or triple-digit temperatures, rain and/or snow blowing in, mice, what have you, for SIX YEARS, I had no idea what we were going to find when we opened that door. To find 95% of my belongings unharmed and in the same condition as I packed it was a blessing. To find a box of pictures of my brother, with nothing but a single Target bag of more pictures on top of it to protect it from the elements, well, that my friends is a reason to Believe.
Six years of being in a storage unit also makes for REALLY dirty stuff, so the moving and unpacking process has been slowed down considerably. But it’s coming together relatively well.
So far, I’ve come across a framed poster that didn’t make it (we packed it with the glass facing the outside of the box), as well as a single wine glass. In the meantime, I managed to break an angel (completely repairable) and a second wine glass (unfixable but quite easily replaced with a six pack from Ikea – and don’t pretend you’ve never bought the Ikea 6-pack of glasses; we all know you have!). My dad has been kind enough to put together two bathroom shelving units, replace my toilet seat, and put on all new door and drawer pulls on my closets, kitchen cabinets, kitchen drawers, and single bathroom cabinet. My mom has lined my kitchen cabinets, spent countless hours shopping with me, and run messenger service between myself and my landlord due to my work hours.
My parents keep smiling along with me as I open up boxes containing my worldly treasures. My stoneware baking pieces from Pampered Chef, my framed Grace Kelly Taittinger poster, and the glassware my bridesmaids gave me at my shower. Pictures of my friends from college, my fluffy cloud-like bed, and toasting flutes from my wedding. I’m debating about the champagne flutes, as my friend Jen can testify. Our text messages transcribed:
Mo: Champagne flutes I used with Dipshit… keep or get rid of?
Jen: Depends…. If you like them and it doesn’t bother you then keep. If it would make you feel better to smash them into little pieces then do that. 😉
Mo: I like the way you think! Smashing sounds good.
I think when I have my “I Moved Outta Sue’s” party, a featured event will be smashing. Just sayin'.