I wanted to shake up my life and go sailing (or learn on the job, so-to-speak) so headed to Florida to crew on a catamaran. This is about how it went or, rather, didn't - and my life since. Hopefully it will lead to a catamaran on the clear aqua blue waters of the Caribbean Sea, watching the sunset, a coconut rum and coke in hand. You must START AT THE BEGINNING of the blog, April 2009, to get the whole story...

Wednesday, January 27, 2010


I was moving out on Sunday, the 31st. Now I have to move out tomorrow.

There's a knock on my door. I answer and it's my 'land lady'. It seems strange to call her that as I have been friends with her husband for ten years. She is his second wife; they got married 3 years or so ago. I hadn't seen much of him since then until I moved into this suite. I don't know her all that well as I have spent almost no time with them socially. She's really nice though and I like her.

She's in a panic. She came over a couple of days ago to see if I could move out early as the people moving in wanted to have their little daughter's birthday party here on Saturday. I wasn't keen but said I would see. If my daughter was able to come over and help me pack on the weekend, then perhaps I could manage it. Turns out Ashleigh wasn't able to so I called to let her know I wouldn't be able to do it. I didn't like the feeling of pressure and panic it gave me, all for a birthday party, so it was just as well.

Now she tells me that she had it wrong. It wasn't for a birthday party. It was because if they can't move in by Friday, then they won't be able to move in until the 15th and that means they will lose half a month's rent and they can't afford that loss. I am not happy to hear this because immediately I feel pressured. She tells me that the family really want to move in and are willing to do whatever it takes to make it happen. They will come over with their truck on Thursday to move my stuff wherever it needs to go. The woman will even come over and help me to pack up the rest of the stuff. I don't have to clean the place. Whatever it takes.

I really feel like this is not my problem. It's within my right to stay until when I paid for - the end of the month. No reduction or refund is being offered to me. So that means I paid rent (and utilities!) for 5 days on the front that I didn't get and now for another 3 on the end. But there is a long standing friendship here so I say I will do it. When she leaves I feel totally overwhelmed.

I get stuck in to serious packing, by myself. I don't really want someone I don't know packing for me. It's mostly just the kitchen and my bedroom (clothing) left to do. All the kitchen stuff will go to my friend’s crawl space for storage. The stuff in the bedroom comes with me. All day I pack boxes and stack them in the spare room. By the end of the day, my back is feeling like it might go out. The next morning, it is feeling worse. The first box I pick up, I feel the familiar sickening twinge that signals a trip to the emergency room is imminent. I have to stop. If I pick up one more thing, or twist a wrong way, I will be totally incapacitated. It is the worst timing. But to be expected. I shouldn't be lifting heavy boxes at all anymore. This was all supposed to happen on the weekend when I had help coming.

I spend the rest of the day in my living room chair, totally frustrated. There's still so much to do. Around dinner time I feel my back is stable enough to go through the bathroom cupboards and toss out a lot of stuff I don't use anymore.

As much stuff as I have gotten rid of in the past year, I feel as though I still have way too much. Not furniture. I barely have any of that anymore and, should I have to set up house again, I am going to be living like a college student. More like clothing, makeup, toiletries, jewelry, shoes.... just way too much stuff. Yet now, when I look in the closet for something to wear out somewhere other than work, I feel like I have very little to choose from. It's a weird dichotomy.

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