Sunday, April 17, 2005

We're doing it, again

We're in the middle of moving. Again. (Same city, new apartment)

Our moves have become increasingly lackadaisical, while I've been ill. We straggle in, we unpack very little, and there is less and less packing and prep for the move that follows suit in 3 months to a year.

Contract work, immigration, health issues, and campaign jobs have put us in extended-stay hotels, on friends' counches, and in strangers' basements, just as often as in apartments in the past 4 years.

We have become friends with the proprietors of storage units.

As we empty out the room here that were never sorted out and were always cluttered, suddenly this apartment seems twice as large and bright and promising, and we think to ourselves, "This is such a nice place. Why are we moving? Why don't we just stay here?"

We do it every time.




Our lifestyle is not conducive to the accumulation of material things. Some bookshelves, some books, some videos, and some changes of clothes.

Ghandi is reputed to have given away half his worldly belongings every year. We aren't travelling quite that lightly, but Richmond's Diversity Thrift Store will do well by us on this move, just like Hope House in DC did this time last year.

We flirted, briefly, with inflatible furniture a few years ago. The same company that makes the much-vaunted Aero Beds had a whole living room suite that was both aesthetic and functional, but poorly engineered, and the seams split in very short order.

Otherwise, we mostly don't have furniture (a bed, a table, 2 bedside tables, 4 mismatched chairs, a boot bench - that's all). Our bookshelves are collapsible or modular. We look for things that disassemble and travel well.

Maybe that's how we recognized each other and wound up married.




Posting will, of course, be sporadic, as we shuffle from one address to the other. We have an overlap on our leases of two weeks, a rare luxury, so we can move somewhat at our leisure, and at least at a saner pace than so many of our moves.

And naturally, I have at least a dozen topics I want to write on, but no time, and no energy. (I am still actively engaged in a number of Virginia campaigns; we got home from the last load out at the new address around midnight last night, and I was doing voter file management until 2:00 a.m.) There lies the essence of my blogging experience: inspiration and the time to write rarely coincide. Perhaps it would be more apt to call the paradox the essence of my writing experience all around.

And yet, we chose this gypsy life, and for now at least, we wouldn't trade it for the world.
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