7:15 a.m.:
I’ve had about four hours of sleep. I never sleep well before big events. A move across the country appears to fall in that category. Saturday and Sunday were spent dispensing with more possessions: locker and gym membership, bicycle, loveseat, coffee tables, tv stand, bookshelves, vanity/desk, computer cart, electronics, groceries. I continue to be astonished at how much I own and how little of that is used regularly.

The guy who is replacing the carpet in my apartment for the new tenant is due at 11:30. On the up side, I don’t have to vacuum the carpet; on the down side, I need to get out of his way soon. I start by cleaning the kitchen and bathroom.

Not logical since neither is carpeted and could be left for later but four hours of sleep do not help my prioritizing processes.

It doesn’t help that it already feels like 80 degrees in the apartment.

In between trips to the dumpster, I eat an apple (from my fridge, not the dumpster, since this is pretty much a pizza and beer neighborhood).

10:00 a.m.-11:00 p.m.: Two friends show to take more stuff to the dumpster, charity shops, and electronics recycling. One brings iced tea, and we drink that and nibble on some chocolate. It’s the anti-farmer’s breakfast. They stuff remaining possessions into more boxes, tape them, label them, and carry them to one friend’s car. As the last and biggest suitcase–which showed signs of fraying seams and which I sewed together last night (while poking a needle right into my index finger in the process)–is about to be lifted into the trunk, the handle snaps clean off. The friend and I look at each other, at the suitcase, which holds most of my carry-on luggage, and at the plastic handle that’s in her hand.

Moments like these remind me that my mother says that a fine network of lines on the palms indicate a life full of tiny but innumerable obstacles (khit khit, as we say in Hindi). I am reminded that I have these lines as we get to the airport and the departure board says the flight is delayed by an hour and a half. I am reminded of it as the plane sits on the tarmac for another half hour, and also when I am dragging my new suitcase, duffel, listing back pack, and laptop bag to the distant taxi stand at JFK, with its sixty-person line and half hour wait–at 10:30 at night.

But the cab ride is mercifully brief and the keys work (after some wrangling, as is needed with all new keys). Even better, the air mattress that I ordered two nights ago has arrived five days early–and someone signed for it and left it in my apartment.

Ah, happy endings!


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One Response to D-Day

  1. ek says:

    Wow, GREAT posts. I am thinking I should have let you get a word in edge-wise when I met you. Even my dog kept interrupting you. Eeeshhh. But we're not rude, we're just NYers. Thank God for all the polite people from the Mid West and points real East that live here, without whom nothing would get done, what with all the tawking.Can totally relate to no sleep before a Big Game. When I moved from NY to Mpls in 2006 my mum, bless her, insisted I take a limo to the airport from their house on LI. The cost was outrageous so I had to stay awake to soak it all in. Never felt more like a rock star, and never slept better on Sun Country.The place looks great, and I am so glad NY put you on the payroll. All the best.

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