Last night after work I went to my house to pick up dinner, my meals for today and a basket of dirty clothes to wash at the apartment we’re cat-sitting. I picked up Dan and forgot to ask him to bring the strawberries I had sitting in his fridge, so I went without. We got to the apartment and loaded up with one backpack full of my standard accompaniments, my dinner and meal items for today that needed refrigerating, the cold, sweaty contents of my gym bag and my laundry basket and headed upstairs.
After awhile we got restless. SuperTarget seemed like a reasonable place to kill an hour or so before LOST in HD, so we headed out so I could stock up on SuperCheap Amy’s Organic burritos and other values only someplace as questionable as SuperTarget can deliver.
Then I had two bags of groceries. When we got back to the apartment parking lot I grabbed a grapefruit and left the remaining groceries in the car with questionable refrigeration temperatures.
We watched LOST. We returned to the car with the remaining food, a basket of clean clothes, and my backpack full of my standard accompaniments. We drove over to Dan’s, loaded up with the laundry basket, my gym bag, one bag of groceries that needed real refrigeration, left one bag of groceries behind in the car, one backpack full of my standard accompaniments, and headed upstairs, where I unloaded the groceries that needed real refrigeration. I realized that my Salsa Lisa, a required condiment for full enjoyment of Amy’s Organic burritos, was at my apartment.
At this point I felt a little like I would cry.
To the naked eye, this just seems like a pain in the ass for a day. In reality, with a few abnormalities here and there, this is the pain in the ass of almost every day. We are down to 40 days until the move is complete, when our house is the same house, and there are many, many more days behind us than in front of us, at which point our house will be the same house forever. I cannot think of anything that is more exciting than that. And yet, the remaining 40 days seem like an excruciatingly long time to wait, with some of my belongings in one place and some of them other places, and no real home base.
So this morning I moved out of Dan’s apartment. I packed up one, two, three baskets full of clothes, blankets, towels, unmentionables; two bags of groceries; one gym bag packed with one pair of shoes, two pairs of shoes, three pairs of shoes; 2 boxes of jewelry; one backpack full of my standard accompaniments. I took one, two, three trips upstairs. I packed the trunk and backseat of my Honda full, drove to my apartment, and took one, two, three trips upstairs.
Until we make our home, my home is home base again.