This is the third post on moving and its joys and delights. The others flew somewhere in cyberspace. Oh well, I shall persevere and pen my frustrations and fancies about this move - from one abode to another.
Attitude is everything and "choice" is attitudes's demanding muse I believe. So, I listen to my muse's mandates and choose a good, kind, patient, and pleasing attitude during these searing hot days. I go about this move much like a middle aged mouse in a maze, twisting and turning in rapid, scrappy movement. Then at day's end, I round a sharp, cardboard boxed corner and collapse, comatose, into my lovely, cool bed. Whew!!
I secretly look about for muscle-types and hefty helpers and once grabbed a garbage collecter and (looking a bit pitiful) asked him to move my fat trash can to the curb. When my grandsons visit, I lecture them on how brawn and prowess is increased by packing boxes and from the sweat of one's brow. Then I offer then a Happy Meal from McDonald's.
However, I've found another approach - it just came to me this morning over my third cup of coffee. While reading my daily dose of wisdom from Proverbs and half listending to the nettling news of the day, the thought came to me. (Multi-tasking is one of my gifts. I can rinse dishes, discuss politics and dress my granddaughter all at once.)
So, here's my notion for now: I will climb high on the hill nearby, and sit there on a soft summer quilt until the move is completed. I will observe and bark out (in a polite sort of way) orders and save (gratefully) my energies for more important tasks, like painting and writing, creating and hugging. There I will find a grassy knoll and plop myself down under a willow tree (kind of holy like) and gracefully nod (kind of queenly like) when I see the job is done.
I haven't shared this new revelation with my family yet as it may startle and start a revolt. No worries, though, I will offer them a dinner at day's end and all the iced green tea they can hold. How could they refuse such generous gift.
