Time to Go.

The move is complete.

No more moving.

Done moving.

I am treating myself like someone getting over the flu; tentatively eating healthy foods, drinking gallons of water, and sleeping ten hour nights. The last week treated me bad. After the X took the living room TV and the computer, I spent most of my nights in my bedroom, eating takeout and watching basic cable. The little guy was gone for the week, so my dark and silent house tormented me with piles of stuff that needed to be sorted, cleaned, and packed. The X wanted the dryer to give his mother. I acquiesced. I don’t need a dryer, and I sure don’t have the storage space for it. What I didn’t know is he was planning on taking it while I was still living in the house. So, there was dirty laundry included in the move. Allegorical? Perhaps.

My niece arrived Thursday morning to help me pack and prepare for the horde to arrive on Saturday and move me out. We made some good progress, but not really good enough. I just couldn’t get through the stuff. It really felt like the house wouldn’t let me go. My brother, his wife, her brother, my nephew, my sister, and my mom and dad (told you it was a horde) were there first thing Saturday morning. I had been holding it together pretty well, except for a good hard cry Friday night, but when they all walked in I lost my shit completely. I spent the morning alternatively sobbing and sorting, packing boxes and gunning cigarettes. Thankfully my sister-in-law Sue and her brother have truly analytical minds, so they were able to assess, organize, and implement. At one point I walked into the kitchen and said, “I can’t find my coffee,” and started bawling. Sue’s eyes got real wide and she said, “Here, drink mine!” I love that woman.

The house is empty now. I have to go back this weekend to give it a little cleaning and make sure it looks presentable, but that’s it. I’m not in that house anymore. I feel bad for whoever rents it next. I think that house took us down. Every person who lived there before has left on bad terms. People consistently lose jobs, get in trouble with the law (thankfully we avoided that), and divorce. Can a house have bad energy, or is it just the inevitable finally catching up with families when they move into that innocent-looking little rental cottage?