As you know, Sally and I recently moved to Los Angeles. We bought a condo, movers delivered our stuff several days ago, and we've been non-stop unpacking since then.
The place looks confused and uncertain. Yet promising.
It takes time.
And reminds me of how moving into a new place is like developing a manuscript.
You see something. You get a notion.
You imagine the possibility, maybe even put it to paper. Like an outline.
You take a deep breath, nod a confirming “yes,” and go for it.
You toss all of your very best at it.
And when you pause for a first time, oh lord, what a mess!
Will this work? Maybe.
Maybe not.
You start with the big stuff, like the furniture, and paint or wallpaper, maybe the window treatments.
They bring character to the place.
You move stuff around.
And in the evenings, you move the same stuff again.
You get rid of things.
Some which worked so well in the old place. But not here.
There are those which hurt to toss.
And a few you put in storage, just in case.
The light in one room is not as expected.
What you were certain would go there, does not.
It takes a while. (Come on, come on. Discipline.)
At last, you let go.
You hang colorful artwork in a room.
Oops.
Now you have to move this.
And that.
Yet, with confidence and work and discipline, the mess lessens.
It starts to take shape.
And much of what it first promised, it no longer does.
It’s better!
You find a place for that old postcard, and a childhood toy.
And the knickknack that means nothing to anybody else, looks great on the bathroom shelf.
Perfect!
THE END
(The words above are a perfect example. They need another eight days of moving in.)
Oh, and this is cool. Frank’s moving back!
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