The last couple weeks have been full of starts and stops.
I’ve moved, progress.
But my apartment is too big and lonely for one person, my movers told me, which I hadn’t thought about until then (thanks!) and now think about a fair amount.
Of course, I shouldn’t give anything my movers said credence since they spent the entire time complaining about my stairs and the hill that had to be ascended to reach my new apartment.
But whatever. I unpacked that first weekend, progress.
Yet I have no real bed, a side effect of a narrow staircase (box spring wouldn’t fit), which has the extra side effect of making me wake up with one wonky eye every morning (weird, no?).
I have painted all of one wall and my dresser, now serving as a buffet and bar because I have no room in the tiny kitchen. Progress, sort of.
I have gone out a few times, including to my firm Christmas party, at which I gave new and fabulous life to The Dress I Wore To My Boyfriend’s Work Party That He Didn’t Like The Night Before He Broke Up With Me. I got an updo! and my lovely new stylist put on fake eyelashes for me!
And afterwards, I met up with Neeta at Little Joy in Echo Park, where I worked my bouffant updo among the hipsters and punksters with pride.
And I have wrapped all the presents that aren’t arriving via the magic of the interweb.
But I have yet to make the 15 batches of nut brittle for my coworkers, deadline Thursday. A result of my grumpy movers throwing away my baking soda without warning me (WTF?). And if you think I’m going out again tonight in the rain? In LA? Dude, I would not return home by morning.
Progress, pause, start, stop, start, stop.
I love the holidays, as I’ve mentioned before, but I can’t wait until it is 2008, when I can build a new routine in my new place, a new rhythm.
When I can just GO, no (or at least fewer) starts and stops.