Boxes and dust – part 3

Okay, so here’s the thing – I run out of steam around 5pm.  At least for things like packing, so luckily, I have had some friends respond to my desperate email cry for help.  My “Martha” friend came over to help me sort for a couple of hours.  I went through my purses and chest of drawers.  I have a lot.  Some purses, barely used, went to donation and a lot of lingerie went into the trash.

My mum’s purse was up there too.  The one she was using when she had a stroke.  I did not go through it.  On purpose.  Sigh.  As I was sorting through all my cute little evening bags, I found a lot of taxi stubs and stuff from gala parties, ticket stubs from Cirque de Soleil and business cards.  Oh, my old glamorous life.  I didn’t realize I had so many silky nighties that I don’t wear anymore.  Back in the good ole days, that’s all I wore.  You know, before hormonal sweats and breasts that spread into my armpits.  Now I wear flannels and pj pants with t shirts.  So damn sexy.  There’s something about flannels that says I’m so damn tired, my back hurts and I’m going to bed with my book.

A lot of thongs and see through panties went into the trash, too.  They were all pretty old anyway and I only wear thongs when it’s above 80 degrees or I’m doing lap dances.  I couldn’t part with my magenta La Mystere bra and panty set.  I have to use that as inspiration.  Maybe I should hang it in front of the fridge.  It’s a very expensive brand, but of course, you know I got it at a discount store in New York.

Oh, and a gold gift box.  Empty.  I used to use it as therapy.  I mentally placed every crappy thing about BFNs and little traumas in there when I got overwhelmed.  I’m keeping the box.  I was going to throw it out, but I thought at the last second I wanted to keep it, know that I had it just in case.  Or even to remember how far I’ve come.

Was kinda weepy all day.  By the feel of my breasts, I’m pretty sure I’m about to get my period, but it’s a lot of things.  My baby came home here.  His very first room. (Down the hall.  Unlike where we’re going to move, where’s his room is right next to ours.  Eeks!)  My Juno’s very first home.  She slept in a kennel in our room when she was a pup.  We have been in the centre of everything, amazing views and conveniences on my door stop.  An elevator that opened up into our foyer full of shoes.  A huge master bedroom with ensuite bathroom  with double sinks, a jacuzzi tub and a shower.  The main floor bathroom in our new place has a pedestal sink and a shower stall and enough room to just change your mind.  Yet, it does have another full bathroom downstairs if I ever get desperate and want to run away from it all.

Yet I’m ready and I see it as just another step towards our permanent home.  Gotta dream big.

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “Boxes and dust – part 3

  1. When we moved here, into our dream home that took two years to design and build, I had such mixed emotions.

    Our first house was where I told husband that I was pregnant the first (and second) times. It was the house where I recovered after my miscarriages, and it was the home that we brought our son home to–and where he lived for the first 3 years of his life.

    I love our “new” home. I have raised all the boys here, and the thought of downsizing and moving away from the nooks, and corners where every freaking memory of their childhoods are…..it’s almost too much for me to think about.

    I know they say nothing can take away your memories, but I don’t completely believe that. If I look around now I can still see events of the past happening.

    I know that at some point I will move, and my life will still be great, but it will be different. I don’t always embrace different.

    I hope the home you are eventually headed to, after this brief pedestal sinked place, will be where Precious will give you volumes of memories.

    Oh…and at some point you will graduate from the flannels, back to at least satin jammies.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s