I. Rest and Read
Wearing her scientist blue shirt, Low is advising the bunny who has a tummy ache:
Rest and read, and eat fewer powdered sugar donuts.
I myself have an infected tooth. I'm allergic to penicillin, so I have to take an antibiotic with a broader spectrum, which, the dentist said, means it kills more good things.Which is bad. After 24 hours, my stomach already feels sour, even though I'm taking the pills with yogurt & probiotics.
Nine more days.
And then, a tooth extraction.
Oh well.
Worse things happen at sea. Like, I could have an infected tooth and be at sea.
Cartoon from 1889, according to blog Words, words, words.
II. The Pilgrim's Pack
Meanwhile, I'm continuing to clear some of my belongings. When I walked the Camino de Santiago, I loved owning (for those five weeks) only the necessities that I could carry. A change of clothes, ibuprofen, and, most importantly, water.
I've always wanted to live in an almost empty room. In reality, I love some of my possessions too much to jettison them. I need my laptop and the Orphan Reds, . . . and a few essential Bears!!!
Relatively speaking, for a modern American I don't own all that much. I want to lighten the load considerably. Thinking about moving, which I am, I'm excited that that's an invitation to strip down my possessions. I'd like to be able to move house on my bike (mattress excepted). (Also, in this climate, you have to own clothes and bedding for a 100-degree spread of temperatures. That's a lot of warm wool and down, as well as sandals and flimsy cottons.)
Anyway, after writing that I'm only "sidling up" to the idea of moving, now I'm committing to it.
(I still don't want to commit to a timeline, so I'm not telling my house-owners yet.)
Remember the house next door to me, how there was a murder a few years ago?
And then last summer there was a fire?
The new absentee landlord has a crew fixing it up now, and two days ago they cut down (murdered!) all the trees in the backyard––three of which shaded my apartment––one of them a big, beautiful Japanese tree lilac.
I wept.
I suspect this is in preparation for paving the backyard for parking... Because we sure need more cars and less trees, right?
And right below my window, too.
Even if that's not the plan, I've had it.
I've been wanting to move for longer than I've admitted to myself.
Money has been the biggest impediment (well, and inertia, partly emotional), but I had an insight:
not only is it cheaper, but I think I'd actually prefer to live with roommates!
That can be dicey, of course, but living with Mz (for four years, and now again this summer) showed me that I can handle sharing my space and that the benefits can outweigh the annoyances, given the right person (or the not-too-wrong person).
That's an equation I keep coming up with:
It's exciting, but it's all a bit nerve wracking too. I suppose, for instance, it might take me longer to find the right fit, as an older person.
Most of the ads are placed by people under thirty-five. Some specify that they want roommates their age.
I wouldn't want to live with some lifestyles more likely to be led by young people, such as the polyamorous twenty-four year old whose two partners regularly stay over. Talk about cognitive load! And emotional... Omg, the potential for drama increases exponentially with each lover.
So, again, I keep saying to myself, there's no rush, this is not an emergency. I say this because after seventeen years of staying in place, part of me wants to be moved yesterday.
Low counsels patience. "Calm yourself."
Wearing her scientist blue shirt, Low is advising the bunny who has a tummy ache:
Rest and read, and eat fewer powdered sugar donuts.
I myself have an infected tooth. I'm allergic to penicillin, so I have to take an antibiotic with a broader spectrum, which, the dentist said, means it kills more good things.Which is bad. After 24 hours, my stomach already feels sour, even though I'm taking the pills with yogurt & probiotics.
Nine more days.
And then, a tooth extraction.
Oh well.
Worse things happen at sea. Like, I could have an infected tooth and be at sea.
Cartoon from 1889, according to blog Words, words, words.
II. The Pilgrim's Pack
Meanwhile, I'm continuing to clear some of my belongings. When I walked the Camino de Santiago, I loved owning (for those five weeks) only the necessities that I could carry. A change of clothes, ibuprofen, and, most importantly, water.
I've always wanted to live in an almost empty room. In reality, I love some of my possessions too much to jettison them. I need my laptop and the Orphan Reds, . . . and a few essential Bears!!!
Relatively speaking, for a modern American I don't own all that much. I want to lighten the load considerably. Thinking about moving, which I am, I'm excited that that's an invitation to strip down my possessions. I'd like to be able to move house on my bike (mattress excepted). (Also, in this climate, you have to own clothes and bedding for a 100-degree spread of temperatures. That's a lot of warm wool and down, as well as sandals and flimsy cottons.)
Anyway, after writing that I'm only "sidling up" to the idea of moving, now I'm committing to it.
(I still don't want to commit to a timeline, so I'm not telling my house-owners yet.)
Remember the house next door to me, how there was a murder a few years ago?
And then last summer there was a fire?
The new absentee landlord has a crew fixing it up now, and two days ago they cut down (murdered!) all the trees in the backyard––three of which shaded my apartment––one of them a big, beautiful Japanese tree lilac.
I wept.
I suspect this is in preparation for paving the backyard for parking... Because we sure need more cars and less trees, right?
And right below my window, too.
Even if that's not the plan, I've had it.
I've been wanting to move for longer than I've admitted to myself.
Money has been the biggest impediment (well, and inertia, partly emotional), but I had an insight:
not only is it cheaper, but I think I'd actually prefer to live with roommates!
That can be dicey, of course, but living with Mz (for four years, and now again this summer) showed me that I can handle sharing my space and that the benefits can outweigh the annoyances, given the right person (or the not-too-wrong person).
That's an equation I keep coming up with:
EVERYTHING IS ANNOYING!I've answered three roommate ads on CL. One was phishing, one turned out to be on an even more noisy street, and one I sent just a couple hours ago.
Do what seems right/ good/ desirable to you anyway.
It's exciting, but it's all a bit nerve wracking too. I suppose, for instance, it might take me longer to find the right fit, as an older person.
Most of the ads are placed by people under thirty-five. Some specify that they want roommates their age.
I wouldn't want to live with some lifestyles more likely to be led by young people, such as the polyamorous twenty-four year old whose two partners regularly stay over. Talk about cognitive load! And emotional... Omg, the potential for drama increases exponentially with each lover.
So, again, I keep saying to myself, there's no rush, this is not an emergency. I say this because after seventeen years of staying in place, part of me wants to be moved yesterday.
Low counsels patience. "Calm yourself."
Best wishes for that tooth, Fresca.
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