Moving and Shaking by Liza

I moved - last week, to be precise - under the Quixote like declaration that I'm now working on Book 4 and I always move with a new book. New Book, New Place, I exclaim! Why do I NEVER remember how hellish and horrible everyone reading this remembers their moves were. Do we forget how truly hellish it is? I must.

I was in this more corporate feeling housing for the last 18 months (book three's birthplace). I found it because I had to do anything to get away from my Recording Studio as neighbor situation (where Seeing Me Naked was written). I knew this last apartment was temporary - or maybe the place just never clicked in. It's always weird when that happens. You don't hang art, you really don't unpack all the way, you're always looking at For Rent signs.

I found this new place in a great neighborhood and exactly my style: teensy and cottagey. I jumped on it - really for the location alone. And then, after signing all the papers, I went back.

Holy shit. What had I done?

The house is old - so there's kinks to be worked out and wood to be Murphy's Oiled and corners to be Cloroxed Wiped (what did we do before Clorox Wipes?!?!?). There's back yards to be cleaned and lavender to be planted. There's DSL to be hooked up (still waiting on that one), and satellite tvs to be mounted. There's gas to be turned on and electrical sockets to be found and tested. There's blinds to be taken down and shades and curtains to be put up.


And this monstrosity taken down...where do people find these things?!?!

Oh...and Coroner's Tape to be taken off the front door.

I'll let that sink in.


CORONER'S TAPE.

Okay...so, someone died here. Okay. It's naive to think I haven't lived in another apartment where someone died. <-- this was my argument to calm my nerves. Now, I'm from Southern California and pride myself on this - but even I was embarrassed at how quickly I called "someone" to come in and "cleanse" the place. As she walked around with sage and candles, I thought...really? Has it really come to this? But, you better believe I was smudging corners of the room with sage and ringing that Tibetan bell loud and proud as we walked through the tiny house in search of the last resident. And then I brought Poet in.


This dog is my cross to bear.

The first night sleeping in the new house, Poet just paced the beautiful hardwood floors I had so loved, now cursed for making her pacing all but deafening. She would pace, pant, shake and then jolt her head up into one of the darkened corners and stare. And shake. And stare. And every night since she's done the same thing - apparently, the specter of the previous tenant is in the smoke detector, according to Poet the Wonder Dog.

I was talking to Megan about the upheaval of it all and said that after how ridiculously shitty Moving Day is, all you want to do it go home---and it's the one thing you can't do.

And there's something about moving that just puts spotlights on whole corners of one's life that the usual everyday grind tends to gloss over. You take inventory of not only everything you own, but everything you have both tangibly and intangibly. It's a paring down and a taking stock and a simplification and an explanation and the entire thing is this cataclysmic clusterfuck which backs you into this corner of isolation that just turns you into a crazy person rocking back and forth clicking your heels three times hoping it will transport you somewhere you feel at home.

But, it's just time. Time spent treading the new boards of your new home. Sleeping in the new place, waking up and hoping today...today, maybe it will feel more like home. And every day it does...a little. I think having Poet helps, only because walking her twice a day connects me to the community around and I think every little bit helps. The pacing, panting, shaking routine is waning now...but, I swear at 10 years old - she still has the energy of a puppy when it comes to her own insanity.

I watch House Hunters pretty regularly and I always noted how after the person bought their new house, that the show usually goes back 3 months later to check in to see how they've settled in.

3 months.

I'll mark it on my calendar now and cross my fingers.

Any other hellish moves out there??

Two songs that have really gotten me through this time:

Sia: Day Too Soon
(I can't get enough of Sia these days...I'm basically listening to her albums non-stop...)


And I can't get this song out of my head...now, YOU too can join me...