Laying Down Roots

I get this itch every few years.  Time to pull up stakes and move on.  Could it be the Native American Indian in me?  I learned many years ago in elementary school the Indians would move their tee pees with the turn of each season. I plan on looking into that further.  The last time I counted I had moved 27 times.  The first 13 were not of my doing, but my Mothers'.  I went to 2 or 3 different kindergartens, I lost count on that one.  I am pretty sure that I did not include the last 4 moves in my count.  I keep meaning to actually get out a legal pad to document each address. One of the things my daughter hates is that I made her move so much.  Little did she know I was totally preparing her for the military life she now lives, moving every three years.  Perfect!  Ok, that's it, I just put it on my 'to-do' list for the fall. I will give the results as part of my year-end report. Can you imagine the Social Security office trying to keep track of people like me?  Hey, someone has to provide job security. Oh, and just ask my relatives, their address books wreak havoc with my moves, not to mention the name changes (we'll save that for another day).

I am in my apartment, of almost two years.  Which, by the way, in two more years will be a record 'stay' for me.  I should forwarn my landlord.  But I am wondering something.  I've actually moved since I moved here.  I originally took the one bedroom downstairs, then moved upstairs to the two bedroom three months later.  Does that count as a move?  I count it.  This was a fun move....my friend Frito and I just lugged the stuff up the stairs and put it away as we went along. 

Keep in mind, most every move was an upgrade in terms of space and/or home ownership.  The other moves involved men.....again, we will save that story for another day.  With the exception of one of my homes, I am a minimalist.  "Less is More" is my motto.  Well, unless you count sewing supplies, then my motto is "Bring More Stuff".  When I had my big house with tons of closets and hide-aways, I had perfectly organized vases and canning jars, a closet for just 'kids activities and games' and a closet for seasonal clothing (and too small clothing), and a tool area in the garage and a nail to hang the broom on.  I love order in my home.  Which is precisely why I got the itch to move this week. 

My apartment is becoming a garment factory overtaken by fabric dust bunnies and ironing boards and threads tangling up my vacuum cleaner.  Racks and displays everywhere, not a sanctuary in sight.  My once feng shi abode in now topsy-turvy in rick-rack, trims, ribbons, recycled blazers from Goodwill and denim.  Now don't get me wrong here,  I would love nothing more than to woller in my sewing twenty four seven.  But there comes a time when I must do homework or read a book, or lets' say,  have a cup of coffee and relax. There is nowhere to go for peace.  So I had the bright idea of renting a small storage space to get the excess out of the way and take back my livingroom.  Don't move, stay!  Just move the stuff somewhere else.  That's it!  Until I go outside and my neighbors convince me to save my money and regroup, don't rent a storage space.  Uggh!  Back upstairs I go.  I am almost done reorganizing, shoving and hiding everything I possibly can.  I hope this works.

I took my dollor store pink flamingo outside and planted it next to the tree to  'homey' up the place.  I am taking root.  I am staying. By the way, I wonder where my vacuuum is.