"Pack everything, pack fast, and don't judge..."

I wish I'd found the moving lady's link above, last week BEFORE my move. I totally judge everything as I pack. I give myself too much time to linger on love and hate notes that emerge from the nooks and crannies of my life, I wax sentimental about costumes from shows I've directed that appear in the back of my closet, about books I've read, about photographs and mix cd's. I guess I sort of relish that "This is your life" time. The moving lady would be so disapointed...

I am sitting on a bench in what seems to be the only wireless bubble in Berkeley Springs, right in front of "Homeopathy Works". It's cold, and I'm in the shade, and I wish I were warm and comfy in an armchair in Murky Coffee on the Hill.

Ah well.

So many adjustments in the last five days. Moving apartments in DC AND moving down here to West Virginia, temporarily at least. I should stop into Homeopathy Works and see if they have something to balance out my chi. Or whatever. Or take a dip in the healing waters (which I do intend to do, as soon as things settle into a more stable pace.)

The move went shockingly well (so far at least - we'll see, I still haven't turned in the keys to the old place, so there is still room for some small disaster. Positive thinking there.)

As I was packing (a job which was reserved until Sunday am -- the day of the afternoon of which I was to do the move) I did a quick count in my head. I've moved 19 times in the past eleven years. Now, the first few times it was into dorms or furnished apartments, so it was something of a modified move. But it still required packing boxes, and loading trucks or trailers, and throwing out single socks and knick knacks like honeysuckle scented candles or styrofoam snowmen that I'd kept around for unknown and unspoken reasons. There is some comfort in the thought that all the practice has made me more efficient. I do now have a system. Albeit, a system which includes saving packing for the day of the move (where am I going to put all the packed boxes ahead of time, anyhow, smarties??!!)

But I at least got everything into the new apartment, scoped out the hood, made my mark as one more poster child of gentrification in DC, and headed back here to West Virginie. My new place is on a corner graced with a KFC AND a Dominos... it seems to smell like fried chicken at all times. Hmmm.

So I'm here, and rehearsals are going well. The ladies are great -- six women of vast and varied backgrounds (including an acupuncturist, a graphic designer, a registered nurse (retired), a dog groomer, a school teacher, and a 28-year-old mother of three (ouch). My ovaries hurt just thinking about it.

They are ready and willing and smart and spirited. I hope I can continue to engage and challenge them.

More to come, maybe from the public library. My fingers are cramping from the cold wind, and the Homeopathy Works people are starting to give me funny looks...