Well, we have access to the master bedroom and bath again. There may not be hardware on the cabinets or a top on the toilet tank, but by Gosh we slept in an actual bed last night.

No window treatments on the windows, and our bedroom is right on the road. "I don't care who sees me in my PJs," A the H remarked. "I'm looking forward to actually sleeping through the night." I read in bed for a while as he was dozing off: I figured that it was dark outside, and no one could see me by the lamplight, because I couldn't see them.

The neighbors seem to have figured out that we're leaving: they smile at us, and wave. Once in a while I catch one of them humming "Ding Dong, the Witch Is Dead," or the theme to <>The Beverly Hillbillies.

We've lived in this house eleven and a half years or so. A/H hadn't resided anywhere that long between the time he left his parents' place and now. And I had never been anywhere more than seven years in my entire life. (Hometown #1, Whittier, I lived in from birth to the age of six or seven; in Hometown #2, Santa Monica, I was in the homestead north of Carlyle from the ages of twelve to seventeen, and then endured another six or eight months of purgatory sharing a condominium six blocks away with my mother before I bolted for real, and for good.)

I just want to cry all the time, and I'm not even sure it's because I'm sad, exactly: it's just a sense of being overwhelmed by the upheaval and vaguely anxious about the future. I'm seeing the moment of my greatness flicker, and the eternal Moving Van is about to pull up, and snicker. (And moving vans do snicker; I've heard them doing it. Don't contradict me.)

And now I'm in my den, typing away at my new computer, for which I must:

• re-install the evil MS office suite;
• re-install my camera software;
• figure out why it has these slow moments, which are particularly odd given that it has four times the RAM in my old machine. This might be a job for Mac-stud Adam, though I'm loathe to give up too quickly. As I said, the "slowness" phenomenon only seems to occur with MT and Gmail. Unfortunately, most of the time I spend online I'm using one of those two programs.

It's certainly nice not to be using a machine that's on death's door; that was crazy-making.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 05:06 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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