Someone to Talk To

Inspirational song: Bitch (Rolling Stones)

It's like trying to sweep a dirt pile into a dust pan. You keep moving the pan around, trying to sweep up that line of dirt that refuses to disappear completely. Eventually you walk away, knowing you can still a faint line on the floor, but you pretend no one else can see it. Or you just drag a toe through it to disperse it, completely cheating and not caring. I moved all the remaining boxes into a stack in the center of the living room, with all the packing materials grouped nearby. I moved the furniture to the other side of the room (with help--thanks, Bonfire Leader), and finished the baseboards under the windows. I keep whittling away at the crap that's left, but the remnants disappear so slowly. The loose furniture might be blinding me to how close I am. Or maybe I really have that much left to do, and it is a good thing that I finally conceded what Mr S-P knew days ago, that we won't be out of here until Thursday. I talked it over with our realtor, and she is cool with the slip to the right.

I admitted today that I am indeed not superwoman. There is no way I can pack, paint, load, and clean, and still have brain function enough to drive the herd west. I called in reinforcements. A professional cleaning crew stopped in late this afternoon, and put me on their schedule. It will be a bit spendy, but my time and health are more valuable to me than that. It will be worth it when the house is absolutely ready to show and sells quickly.

I kept seeing ads for the Rolling Stones Sticky Fingers album for cheap on iTunes, and I responded to the marketing. I bought the album, and then went looking for a couple other songs I really like from them. For days I've had music playing on random, and it took until an hour ago for one of those songs to hit the rotation. I had been sitting thinking about how hard it was going to be to leave this house I love. Each thought that came into my mind was answered in Mick Jagger's voice. I think I just had a farewell conversation with my house through the song Emotional Rescue. It was the strangest, most poignant conversation I've ever had with an inanimate object. I'm still not sure what to make of it. But like I appear to have told the house, this Park did rescue me emotionally. I am going to miss it forever.