On the road again

I sit at my desk unable to relax because my rolling desk chair tends to slide right on this uneven mud room floor. I hear a lawn mower drone in the distance because it’s every Minnesotan’s God-given responsibility to keep his or her lawn in pristine condition for these three summer months. My husband is watching reruns on the television in the living room so I hear laugh tracks floating down the six stairs between us.

I’ve just finished ordering a dress online, confirming weekend plans with a long-time friend and applying for a job for the second time. (I only made it through two interview rounds last time but now there are two more openings.) As long as there is an opening, I will apply. I am tenacious when I believe something is right and this job is right for me. Or if it’s not, maybe Costco will hire me. Don’t you love uncertainty?

You’ve been wondering if I will ever follow through when I proclaim my undying devotion to this blog. So here I am. Devoted. Following through. Believe me when I tell you that my life is so boring that often there’s nothing to say. Also, I hardly ever sit at this desk where my computer gathers dust.

We are moving again. Did I mention that before? This is our eleventh move as a married couple. My husband has been hired by a church in the Pacific Northwest, close to where I grew up. He was not looking for a new job but this new job was looking for him, so off we go.

Unfortunately, since I was convinced this was our final move, I gave away our moving boxes long ago. But fortunately, since we moved not all that long ago (four years), I haven’t accumulated all that much stuff and so packing–while a lot of work, so much work, why do I have so many books?–hasn’t been that bad, all things considered. I’m pretty much a professional packer and definitely a professional sorter-and-purger, so that’s what I’ve been doing in my spare time.

My criteria for keeping kitchen items, for instance, is . . . “can I buy this again cheaply at a thrift store?” If so, off it goes to the thrift store. The flaw with this approach, of course, is that I will spend the next few years wondering where that platter has gone–did I keep it or give it away? It’s a fun way to live, really. Confused, mystified, but ready to go thrifting for whatever reason and no reason at all.

The cost of housing in the Pacific Northwest is shockingly high and causes me so much regret over every property we’ve ever sold, but despite that regret, we are, indeed, selling our igloo house here. We have been offered a miraculously affordable rental house on the other side, so we will settle in and see what happens with the real estate market in the years to come.

My husband and one son will be departing on June 19. I told him they need to get out so I can finish packing and cleaning before the moving truck comes on June 26. Then my daughter is flying out and we’ll clean the house and wrap up loose ends before departing ourselves on an epic road trip which will include stops at Wall Drug store, Mt. Rushmore and Devil’s Tower. I love a road trip so I think it’ll be fun.

Honestly, the impending move doesn’t feel real even though neat stacks of packed moving boxes line the walls. Sure, I would have liked to have been that person who stayed in one place their whole life but that’s never been the path for me. (After all, my parents moved some 20 times in 7 years before I was 5 years old.) I’ve appreciated the time we’ve spent here–only about an hour from where my grandparents met and married in 1926–but it’s time to return to the Cascade mountains, the Douglas firs, the Puget Sound and the rain. (And let’s be truthful, also the slugs, the traffic and the gloom.)

I arrived there for the first time in 1969 and will return for the last time (God-willing and the creek don’t rise) in 2024.

(End scene as thunder rumbles in the distance.)