Dance of the Armoire

I have been here less of late.  It's not that I don't want to be, I have just been displaced.  Wandering around glassy-eyed, looking for some small perch to land.  You see, we've been having the interior of the house painted.  It's not over yet.

For the past week, I have side-stepped and weaved through a maze of furniture, clumped in the middle of the living room.  It has reminded me a bit of a middle school dance:  awkward groupings of pieces of furniture in various corners of the room; pieces that don't go together looking as if they're trying to have a conversation, not knowing what to do with hands and feet that are too big.

This is actually somewhat orderly.  At one point, all the chairs, ottomans and that large behemoth of an entertainment center was all piled in the center of the room.  One of my daughter's friends pointed out that it made a lovely running track around the room, and demonstrated such.  It hasn't stopped us from having people over - they just have nowhere to sit, so they lean.  That, and peer around piles of stuff.

I have even 'danced' with most of this bulky furniture, swaying and sliding until I can move it where I need it to be.

Anyone in my household: 'You need help with that?'

Me:  'Nah, I got it.'

Anyone in my household: (collective sigh of relief)

Me: (Dadgum my stubborn independence some times)

Even Maggie has been wandering aimlessly, not knowing what in the world is going on.  This is what reminded me of the middle school dance - all the bulky, tall pieces lining the wall.  I danced with that one on the right a good distance across the room to get it there.  I know.  I give 'voice' to animals and 'scenario' to inanimate objects.  I can't say what my excuse is on a normal basis, but the paint fumes have been getting to me.

I"m over the roosters phase - anybody want a rooster?

I have also felt a bit like I am living in the middle of a garage sale.  Boxes and nick nacks strewn everywhere.  I have just about decided that while I'm going to all this trouble to pack up things and weed through items no longer wanted, I could just as easily slap a sign in the yard, throw open the door and let people come in and buy this junk.  While I'm at it, half the stuff is already boxed up - why not go ahead and move?  This has made me dread the idea of moving, by the way.  Not that I am any time soon, but moving is just no fun.


I have literally been boxing and unboxing for over a week, and there's still more to go.  In all of this unsettledness, there have been tears, and 'words' and feelings of displacedness ( I made that up...).  I have come to realize that I really do not have a place of my own in the house, a corner to call my own.  I had two cabinets full of books that have now been boxed and relegated to the basement.  I can not find a desk or area where I can 'do what I do' - read and write and think.  There are spaces for all sorts of media intake, but I am not a regular partaker.  So even when everything gets put back and rearranged, I might still find myself wandering.


In the mean time,  I've 'found' another sailing song that I've listened to quite a bit while I ramble aimlessly: