Jeez, has it really been over a month since I last posted? I know it's not like many people actually read this thing, but still, I hate to neglect it so. You see, two things happened; first, I was sick with pyelonephritis. And then S/O and I decided to move to the apartment downstairs.
On paper, the move made sense. I had to climb 2 flights of stairs to get to the old place. and since my mobility is limited, that was very hard for me to do. Plus the place was falling apart; peeling paint, peeling ceiling, ancient carpet throughout. The refrigerator only worked on one side, and one fateful morning, the light fixture fell out of the bathroom ceiling, nearly knocking out S/O.
Still, I was a bit reluctant...
You see, I'm a purger. And S/O, although I love her dearly, is a saver.
I'm firmly conviced that had we live 150 years ago, she would be the gal on the wagon train with the two-story covered wagon, the oak chiffarobes and the pipe organ. I would be the one riding a pony bareback, with my canteen, my bowie knife and my dog.
I suppose we're all savers on some level; I have all the requisite souveniers from my babies as well as my lost loves. There's even a pair of bell-bottom Levis I save, mostly to prove that yes, once upon a time, I had a tiny ass. But super-savers, such as S/O, are a mystery to me. They save the out of style, the broken, the useless. And the newspapers! WTF is it with the newspapers?
This is the SECOND WEEK of the big move, and even though I have thrown much out, and worked diligently, it is not quite over...Someday, I will bake and send those cookies I promised my friend Maggie over 2 months ago; Someday, I will set my computer back up and be able to work from home; Someday, I'll be able to make a home-cooked meal. And someday, I'll find a way to turn S/O from a saver to a purger...
(BTW, this is not a picture of my old apartment; THIS place has nicer carpet.)