Hi. Remember me? I’m the flake who used to post on this blog quite frequently.
What have you been up to? Where have you been?
Me--I’ve just been growing new gray hairs daily and trying to keep blood pressure down to a low boil. Really, it was my intent to post the answer to Goodlife Zen’s number eleven question on January 9. And ironically, my answer to question eleven was part of the reason I couldn’t provide an answer.
Alas, something I call “Mundania” happened. [Thank you, Piers Anthony. We won’t tell my aunt that you labeled a map of Florida as Mundania.] The boring, necessary, mundane details of life walked right up to my blogging time, pushed her out of the way and said, “Um hey. Me first.”
First a good friend asked for some assistance getting his books ready for the unconstitutional income tax man. And it just so happened that he needed it all done in less than a week. Right after, came the teacher-dreaded End of Quarter. Trying to get grades done at the same time as trying to teach info from the new quarter can be exasperating. Plus, as I am the writing teacher, my job is to make writers out of children who think “and then, and then, and then…” is a perfectly acceptable way of prolonging a paragraph. I make them write. A lot. I have to grade their papers. A lot of them. Silly me. When will I learn that the more I make them write, the more time I have to spend correcting papers? It took about two weeks to grade roughly sixty essays.
Then more stress came sneaking right up on top of emergency accounting and lengthy grading marathons. We found out we have to move again.
Without further ado, I will present the answer to Goodlife Zen’s Number 11 question!
11. What difficulty taught you an important lesson?
I was going to write something profound about all the lessons I had learned by having to move in 2009. And how I finally came to terms with having to move and the associated breakage of things, loss of things, and having to buy more things. It was going to be a wonderful post, meant to encourage and inspire. You would have loved it.
Then a family friend came up to Computer Geek and said, “Hey, House X is going to be available soon. Would you and Randi like to move there? It’s $200 per month cheaper.”
My dear husband very honestly answered, “Not unless I want to wake up with an axe in my head.”
I hate to move.
I might like moving better if this would not be the ninth move for me in twelve years. That means I move every 1.33333333 repeating decimal years.
The Whine List
I still can’t find things that I packed for my move to Utah twelve years ago.
My set of scriptures is still missing from my move last year.
My couch leg got broken on the last move and may not make it another move.
Weston is upset that he still cannot find his ninth birthday presents and fears that by the time we find them, he will have outgrown them.
My friend remarked the other day, “You know that plant you have in your kitchen would do much better in the ground instead of in a planter.” I had to respond, “That may be true, but I never know where my ground is going to be.”
Every time I have moved, it has been while I am working or teaching and am unable to take time off. All moves have to be completed after work and on the weekends.
I think that’s all the whining I will allow myself in public, although the list could be much more comprehensive. I’m really good when I get on a roll.
Last summer, I spent time nearly every day unpacking boxes from my move six months prior. I was able to throw away a slew of unneeded items including some books (pain!)
old cosmetics that never were my color, socks that had no mates, receipts from six year old purchases, dried up pens and markers, baby things I had saved for my girls only to discover they don’t want them, and items with missing parts. I felt good! Accomplished.
Lighter even. Still have half that room to go, but getting half of it done felt amazing. My inspirational post would have motivated you to get rid of all your extraneous junk too!
In the middle of all my complaining, venting, steaming, and kicking about having to move again, guess what happened?
I have a home. Two to choose from, as a matter of fact. I have things---furniture, appliances, clothes, toothbrushes, toilets, running water, food, and vehicles. My children are not orphans and have all their limbs. My grandchildren are not crying for a mama who will never come.
My greatest difficulty gave me my greatest lesson of gratitude. I’ll try to keep my murmuring about moving down to a minimum. I’ll keep my whining to myself. And if I can wait 2.666666 repeating decimal years before I have to move again, I’ll be happy.