Alive and Well-ish.
Recently I have been paralyzed by the sheer enormity of the things on my mind. And yet I’ve had nothing interesting to say—not that my customary posts about unlucky dolphins and the evils of shoulder pads are terribly riveting, but the frenzied blathering of my brain over the past few weeks has been even less enlightening than is customary.
Partly this is due to the fact that we are moving (I swear there is a flash of lightening and a clap of thunder every time I say that), and moving looses some essential screw in my cognitive faculties. As you may remember, our last move did not go well, what with the gauchos and the cats and the missing laborers. I am hopeful that this one will be better. For one thing, we have boxes for all of our belongings and are not relying on the “pack six boxes, transport to new apartment, unpack boxes, transport empty boxes to old apartment, repeat” strategy we have used to such staggeringly inefficient effect in the past. We are also asking the movers to move everything this time, rather than just the furniture—most of which we are selling anyway (Does anyone need a coffee table? How about a set of four suede chairs, two with scratches?). And It does help that at the end of all this (on MONDAY) we will be in an apartment with lovely granite counter tops and a dishwasher, and the bathroom of squalor will be no more. But still, the stress mounts. It does not help that our old apartment has not rented and as of Sunday we will be paying rent for both places, a prospect that causes me to gnash my teeth and moan wildly and scour the want ads in hoping of seeing one that reads “CHEESE TASTER–$100k pls benefits, no exp. necessary!”
I am overwhelmed by worrying about money, and our upcoming IVF cycle, and packing, and my mother leaving for Switzerland, and it has made me useless at work, sluggish at home, and yet painfully alert when I close my eyes to rest.
For some reason, the fact that my mother is moving out of the country has made everything seem a bit less manageable. I am embarrassed even typing that—after all, I am a grown-up married lady now, ostensibly, and yet when I think of my mother living across the ocean I feel something akin to the panic I felt after being dropped off for my first day of preschool, almost a quarter of a century ago.
See? Embarrassing.
But probably I have had too much wine and too little sleep, and I will feel better in the morning after some coffee. And then we can talk about important things like who wants to have a cocktail with me at Blogher and how many embryos I should transfer and whether empire-waisted shirts are a bloated girl’s best friend or the devil.
(And if anyone wants to buy a Pottery Barn sleeper loveseat blanketed with a cozy nap of cat hair, you know where to find me).
12 Comments
I would love to have a cocktail with you at Blogher! Since you asked (ahem).
empire waist shirts = the devil.
Dear Alexa, that sounds pretty hellish. Stress is so much worse when the brain doesn’t ever let you downshift, not even at night. I hope things get dramatically better soon, my dear.
Its not embarassing to feel that way about your mother. Szitzerlehnd is far away. Good luck moving. That is worse than any 4-lettered word at our apartment
Glad YOU’RE back too, Alexa. Jeez! Good luck with the move. I DESPISE moving, and at one point (during the dark years with the Dysfunctional Ex) I used to move just about every year. So I feel your pain. Say “Bye!” to the Bathroom of Squalor for me. I’ll just be sitting here seething with jealousy over your dishwasher and granite countertops. Don’t mind me at all…
I would also love to enjoy cocktails with you but more importantly, when my mother leaves the country and mentions things like the location of her will and who to call; I start crying and I usually spend the entire time that she’s away surviving on thin mints and vodka. I feel your pain.
Empire waisted shirts=misleading at best. I bought one out of desperation before our recent trip to visit European relatives because I couldn’t find anything else fancy-yet-travel-able for dinners out, and guess what — they’re not trandy over there right now. Guess who fended off “Sooooo, are you gonna have another kid?” questions/significant looks at midriff in four different countries?
May this next move proceed without gauchos or cat trauma.
I desparately want to have a cocktail with you at Blogher but I will be in London on a missions trip. :-(! Any chance you will come to the East Coast this summer when I finally get around to organizing the get-together? Pretty please?
Do you need an assistant cheese taster? I have A LOT of experience - especially when paired (not necessarily appropriately) with wine (and whine) (and chocolate)(and cheetos).
Um, sorry about the stress - rather icky!
I would LOVE to have a cocktail with you but I insist that we include a nice block of cheese in the festivities as well. Perhaps Moose can make a recommendation?
Good luck on the move and congrats on the granite countertops! I wanted to let you know I awarded you a Rockin Girl Blog Award since I’ve been enjoying your blog so much. You can check it out here: http://egg-donation-directory.blogspot.com/2007/06/and-rockin-girl-blogger-award-goes-to.html
This year’s blogher promises to be a blast… all my favorite bloggers are attending. A tip for you which I wish someone had told me last year - there’s a cash bar, but unlimited free wine.