Bust a Move

The month of July has presented me with more than a few challenges. Blogs won’t write themselves, which means I’ve got a few to catch up on before we hit the one year YABiversary. I’ve got that pesky “reschedule your exams” and even peskier “do well on said exams” issues. And both of those stem from the big day in August, whereupon two will become one and Pepsi and Coke will be forced to co-exist in a fridge. But all of these take a back seat while I deal with a far more massive task: moving.

Come August, YAB’s home base will be operating no longer from The Random Run in Falls Church, but from an undisclosed location in Fairfax, VA. I currently am holding the keys to the new place in the ‘fax, and from the limited time I’ve been there, it’s going to be a great place to live. (By the way, I’m not literally holding the keys, that would make typing difficult. Here, I’ll show you. THLjs si what is iut us l;ike to type witj akeys in your haand. See? It looks like Mattias’ spelling…)

So here’s my master plan for Operation Relocation. Over the course of July, transfer all worldly possessions (except for those Star Wars and Legos claiming residence in my family’s attic) 9 miles due west. Seems pretty simple? For the most part it will be. I hope. Gulp.

The first step to a successful relocation is reduction in force. While it may be nice to have some of those old keepsakes, it’s time to the face the music, and the song of choice is Steam’s biggest hit. I have come to grips with this reality, and have since bid adieu to such sparsely-regarded items as the 2003 collection of Sports Illustrated, a keepsake candle-in-a-glass from SHS’ 1997 junior dinner dance, a back-up pair of soccer cleats, and my entire DVD collection.(Ah ha! Had you there for a second. Come on, you thought I was serious? I’d never throw out a candle-in-a-glass.)

Once you’ve reduced in force, it’s time to be organized about the way you move things. Now since I am cohabitating two spaces for the month, I can’t just pack all my things up in a box and send them to the ‘fax; I have to order the move wisely. The essentials (computer, clothes, big jar of pickles) need to stay as long as I need them. And despite my storied history of making the couch my nightly resting place, I should leave the bed where it is.

Like Jim Carrey’s run through his dreams in Eternal Sunshine, various objects have begun to disappear from my apartment. Every time I take a trip over, I try to bring something substantial with me. Stuff I won’t need. First, it was the second TV, the one from my bedroom. Then, it was my big bag of skiing gear. Last night, a TV stand that will go in the office. Umm…ok, so that’s all so far, but it’s a start right? Rome wasn’t built in a day. (It was built "next to" a river!)

Saturday night, after delivering the TV to the ‘fax, I sat against one of my bare walls, taking a break. That’s when I realized the Achilles’ Heel. Other than the aforementioned items and some bridal shower gifts, I was sitting in a completely empty apartment.

Can’t watch TV – I haven’t turned on cable. Can’t make a snack – have no food. I do laundry, but the only clothes I have with me are the ones on me, and that would require me to wear a towel for 90 minutes. Hmm, no. Maybe I’ll put on my ski-boots and go stand in the shower to test their waterproof abilities. (Sound familiar, anyone?) I guess I could rearrange the utensils in the utensil drawer. Again. Maybe if I can mooch of someone’s wireless connection I could write a blog. Or eight.

There’s only so much you can do in a completely empty apartment.