The second part of our moving adventure is where the chaos, stress and craziness set in.
We picked up the keys to our new home on May 24th. I scheduled our final departure of the old house for June 20th. We just made it. I had no idea how much stuff we had accumulated over the past sixteen years. I had no idea how many used up paint cans would have to be disposed of. I had no idea how many books, holiday decorations, tools, collections and junk we had stored in sheds, closets and drawers. I found a large stash of VHS tapes, cassette tapes and CDs. Most of which we can, nor choose to use. With iTunes, Hulu, On Demand, etc. there's little need for physical media. When it came time to pack up and move the studio, my daughter uttered, "My mom just had to be an artist." There is some truth to that. Moving the studio was a huge job in itself.
Along the way I purged a lot. I kept the good to be donated to charity and piled up the bad to be taken to the dump. I encouraged my daughter and husband to purge. That wasn't easy. In all, I sent my husband on a few charity trips and two trips to the dump (excluding all the hazardous waste that needed to be taken separately).
Through all the packing, cleaning and moving I felt extremely alone. I had many a "why-must-I-do-everything" moments. Mr. Milkman is self employed and works a lot of hours. Quite often, he just isn't available. I was handling it okay until we had our moving day and began living in our new home. We jumped through hoops to keep our four-legged kids, but as it turned out, the little yapper dogs behind us in our new neighborhood did not take kindly to our Australian Shepherd, Alby. They are fence fighters. Every time we took Alby outside they would bark and jump and scratch at the fence and stick their noses though the small wood-knot holes. Alby, of course, was very reactive to this. Our previous neighbors had dogs, but they ignored Alby and he ignored them. Sometimes they'd stand in their respective places across from each other at the fence line and stare at each other, but never did they bark at each other or get into fence fights. My stress level went into overload as I had to keep Alby locked in the house, in his crate or on a leash during potty trips. He didn't take too kindly to this. He love, love, loves being outside playing, running, chasing balls and frisbees. One morning he yanked the leash so hard to get outside he slammed me into the door jam. I raised my arm to protect my head and banged up my wrist pretty darn good. It hurt! And, it brought me to tears. The stress levy cracked and I'd reached the point of "I-can't-take-this-anymore." There was still so much to do at the old house and so much unpacking to do here at the new house. I had no idea when I'd get to my studio and it was beginning to feel like there was no end to this process. In that moment, it all came crashing down on me.
We finally decided it would be best to find Alby a new home where he could be free to run and play and would be loved and cared for. I put the word out and through social media we were connected with a delightful couple in Granite Bay, with a large home, an acre of land and two dogs of their own. We took Alby out for a meet and greet to see how the dogs would interact with each other. No blood was drawn so they agreed to adopt Alby as their own. It was difficult and it's weird around here without the pitter-patter of Alby's paws tapping across the tile floors. However, my heart was alleviated when his new mama sent me photos and a video of Alby hanging out with his new papa and chasing balls with his "siblings."
We finally wrapped up the old house and it has been so wonderful to get up in the morning, sip my coffee on the deck and rediscover my creative planner knowing that I did not have to return to *that* house. A couple of new rugs from IKEA and a few new bookcases (two with doors) and I'm ready to put my art loft together and paint the top of my art island.
Things finally appear to be coming together.