Moving and the Struggle to Let Go/Avoid Having to Let Go

Aha! Book production is getting a bit more streamlined!

My husband has taken over this end of the process as he doesn’t have epilepsy and his hands work better for him.

I am secretly pleased that we use a typewriter as the binding weight.

Yeah, we have a vintage typewriter which we haul around with us as we move every year.

And that typewriter belonged to no dead loved one like the rest of the furniture I accuse.

No, we just have a typewriter because it’s essential hipster decor.

And we were hipster before you.

We got that old big crazy heavy typewriter for free from a hoarder who ran a small business years ago.

We couldn’t say no. I mean look at him!

And… now Typewriter has a purpose beyond serving as a home for my mini Monsterumi (which a talented friend who is a crochet ninja creates).

I realize that’s the kind of logic hoarders use:

…holds up and peers at odd dusty spoon-like thing and thinks…

“Some day I will use this for something!”

But there’s no danger in me becoming a hoarder.

In fact, I’m almost to the point where I’m going to give away/leave behind/somehow sell the lovely yet terribly heavy and also insanely sentimental furniture I have just so we don’t have to move it all again.

Even my childhood piano. I may leave it behind.

I mean, some kids almost died moving that piano upstairs to this apartment last summer.

Of course, I don’t want to leave my piano and furniture behind as we MOVED IT ALL CROSS STATE LINES LAST YEAR AND THE YEAR BEFORE and it seems weak to not be able to move it to somewhere local now.

Beside, it’s become some kind of horrid tradition by this point.

Like Thanksgiving.

Yet, I’m going to have to sell a lot more books before we’re going to be able to afford professional movers for the next move in order to make it less hellish and also likely the final straw.

A lot more books. 🆘

Alas, sentimentality will always win with me.

Thus, there is no way I can let go of my parents’ matching mahogany-like cabinet and dresser plus my Great Uncle Peter’s writing desk.

I loved the people and I love their things.

Therefore, it’s more likely I will be sleeping inside the cabinet in some kind of furniture fort barricade which I’ll assemble on the street outside before I give any of it up.

The becoming has begun…

I also don’t want to let go of the haunted golden chairs which my husband and I saw at a Goodwill when we moved back from Scotland in 2010.

We were staying with friends for free at that time as we had no money or jobs due to the market crash and… well, the Goodwill chairs just GLOWED.

They glow less now because they’ve been unprofessionally moved many, many times.

Yet, after we first bought them, they had to be stored in our friends’ basement as, again, we were temporarily living with them for free and then, unimaginably, out of nowhere, we brought home TWO GIANT GOLD CHAIRS FROM GOODWILL which definitely seemed to be haunted because you can kind of track where Shit Went Really Bad back to the purchase of those two gold chairs.

Sorry, World. We didn’t know.

And they were so pretty.

Yet, while “pretty” ranks pretty high with my shallow self, “sentimental” ranks higher and so maybe the haunted or “cursed” (which may be the more appropriate word) chairs may have to go before our next move.

Of course, with the way things are going I’m not sure if moving is a thing that will happen.

Goodness, the virus is everywhere now and we Americans are blowing it.

Surprise, surprise.

My husband and I are going to get tested again today as it’s been a few weeks and we did travel to Kenosha.


And my husband has been sick for three days.

Sooooooooo I’m updating my death sheet… aka who gets what and who needs to be notified.

I don’t have any property or assets… my husband owns the car… so my death sheet is more about who gets my sentimental furniture, plants, books and stuffed animals, and also includes directions to inform certain friends that I’ve died because I have a goth friend living on an island somewhere right now somehow who would like to know and also a longtime friend in Austin who isn’t on social media because she is smart.

I’d invest in carrier pigeons to notify them but pigeons wouldn’t even make it out of this neighborhood with its perpetual fireworks.

In fact, yeesh. 😬 I can’t even think of that.

Dead on liftoff. :(((((((((

In the meantime, before death and spiritual and physical transitions, I remind myself that it’s important to live each day as if it’s the last.

For me, that means putting on some music once the fireworks start, cracking a beer and dancing as the sun sets.

Like a Christian Shaker or a witch.

Life is short!

So, while making all your investments and organizing your week ahead… make sure you also plan for death.

And update that death sheet because it’s shocking how some friends/family who you thought would really want to know if you’re dead should no longer be listed on the death sheet because you don’t want THEM to be notified about your death.

No. You want them to not know for a while and then find out later and be all “I can’t believe no one told me!” and look like a complete asshole or, if they were a house, “as is”.

Posthumous petty revenge.


In any case, while making your mortal arrangements, also be sure to live in the moment whenever you have enough energy to do so.

It all goes so freakishly fast.

14 thoughts on “Moving and the Struggle to Let Go/Avoid Having to Let Go

  1. Your typewriter says “Corona” on it? Perfect. Deegan and I are coughing today, we’ll probably get tested on Wednesday. Fingers crossed and loads of deal making with Jesus for all of us.


    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hot damn!!!! I didn’t even notice (denial)!!! Holy cats, my bird best friend! PROPHETIC TYPEWRITER! I’m so sorry you kids are coughing! Now today I have a sore throat too so… oh noooooooooo! Prayers, wish-making and hyper self-care-doing! Sending so much love to you both!!!!!!! I’ll tell you what our verdict is when it comes in! 🤞 xoxox


    2. Oh my cats, dear Val! And… um, the line to get testing is INSANE!!! Haha that’s where we went before. And whenever I/we drive by that spot, it’s looked deserted over the past few weeks. But… it is currently batshit. WOW.

      Guess we will try to get tested tomorrow and get in line early! Damn!


  2. I ADORE your typewriter. Perhaps you might use it to practice automatic writing. The spirit of Hemi could type her love for you from the great beyond (being a dog, she wouldn’t do it well, but you’d get the gist, I’m sure).

    Liked by 1 person

  3. We, too, have an elephantine piano. Ours is a tall ancient upright. We haven’t moved it as much as you have yours, but those moves have been dramatic, none the less–the last time down the very steep gravel driveway. Because it shed hammers like autumn leaves, I had visions of turning the piano into a computer desk–the monitor would go where you rest the music, and the keyboard could be in place of the keyboard. It was going to be darling.

    But then we had an even better idea. We turned the piano into a piano bar. Most of the guts are gone, exposing the harp. Under the lid hang a multitude of upside down wine glasses, and the now blank deck that once held keys is now a useful area for pouring. Under the deck (where knees were once tucked) is the wine rack. It is, I think, even more darling than a computer desk would have been.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh WOW!!! Look at what you did! Could you send me a photo? That sounds AMAZING!

      Sadly, I need my piano to play and so the moves have to be somewhat gentle. It got beat up in the move upstairs this last time. But… I will figure something out! I’ve moved pianos before down stairs… I’ll start scheming and get in touch with friends if a move solidifies! 🙂


      1. I’ll look for one.

        It’s not “sadly” that you can play your piano–I wish I could play. Also, it would have been lovely if the hundreds of dollars we poured into trying to revive that old beast had been effective. It just…slowly, steadily, fell to pieces, until there wasn’t any alternative–find a way to give it a new life, or haul it to the dump (because, did you know? You can not give them away).

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Gak! Isn’t that the truth? I’m so sorry you’re feeling so unwell. I mean, it all could be mostly attributed to stress. And to not leaving the house…. which really doesn’t help as you’re doing all you can do to avoid or spread COVID and yet… ugh. I hope you start to feel beer. :(((


      1. I start to worry that people will think I’m a hypochondriac. Or that I AM a hypochondriac. None of it is terribly unpleasant, I’m just so annoyed with being on constant alert.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. A friend once called me a hypochondriac. She had no idea how much I hadn’t shared about my family history and the such. She barely knew about my epilepsy. Just take care of you. 😘


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