Moving Woes

Today is the day! After months apart my stuff and I get reunited! A much anticipated and stress-filled reunion. Getting into a new place is always wrought with stress and problems and anxiety - what if I cannot get in, what if they keys aren't where they said they'd be?, what if my suitcases I came over here with are too heavy now for me to lift, or if the cabbie refuses to take them cause they're Sasquatch sized?!?! This is a mere glimpse of what has been running through my head for the past 72 hours. But the day is here and I managed in two taxi rides to get my things over to the new place, yes got into it, and even got the coffee maker set up for the movers (critical!).

However, one giant fly in the ointment...as i was leaving my old flat this morning at 6am, taxi waiting downstairs, i was rushing to get my final suitcases and bags down the stairs, close up the old flat and get going before the cabbie decided i was a friggin mess and left. In my haste of doing all this and calling the taxi, I did something i NEVER do - i put my phone done on a random shelf. Just as I closed the pre-locked door I felt my stomach drop. oooooooh NO!!!! I've just locked my blackberry inside my old flat. No time to figure out if by some batman like stealth plan I can break back in as the cabbie is downstairs honking his horn. nice.

So now i'm waiting on my movers, hoping they don't call for directions and thanking god for the magic of unsecured wireless internet access!!

When Do I Get the Track Suit

So even though I really do like my new job...a lot!...I still am going to work thinking...when do I get to retire? Seriously...this is fine and all, and I do dig getting a paycheck, but I think I'm done with this whole working thing now. I was talking to my friend Cat about this the other day. I am ready to be shipped down to Florida, dye my hair and unnatural shade of blonde or red and fashion it into the requisite fuzzy pumper barber shop do; spend my day in mystic tan until I achieve the appropriate shade of orange which will highight my snazzy new hot pink walking suit I will proudly wear power walking down the fake streets with my other biddy old ladies.

phew! how great would that be?

So I go to CNN money.com last night to investigate when exactly I should plan on building my track suit wardrobe and preparing for my 5pm dinners figuring it had to be in my 50's sometime! NO! F'ing retirement calculator told me I can't retire until I'm 60 if I live until I'm 80! I object! That's total BS! New Plan:

I will work until I'm 55 then start eating sticks of butter.

"I hate everything I own! I have NOTHING to wear!"

Every woman at one point or another has stood bare-assed in her closet, hands on hips, surrounded by heaping piles of rejected articles of clothing and screamed this statement. The size of the wardrobe is not the issue. In fact there may even be an inverse correlation - seemingly the larger the wardrobe, the more frequent this declaration is made, often followed by a tapestry of swears as she swats at any remaining clothing left dangling from the hangers and stomps around the room. There is something to be said for too much choice hampering one's ability to make a decision (Hola, Ms. Imelda Marcos!). But most of the time these fits of inconsolable rage at our closets and general banishing of all existing clothing comes from just having stared at the same sh*t day after day and we're bored.

I am relating to this BIG time right now. I moved from Amsterdam to San Francisco 8 weeks ago and carefully selected only the items of clothing I really needed to bring in my 2 reasonably sized suitcases (having learned my lesson from my previous move - see post from July 2006 "But Where Do The Shoes Go?!") Thankfully I got word recently that my beloved shoe and clothing collection [oh yea and my furniture] made it across the seas and have landed in port to be delivered in a month...but of late I find myself having to book a solid 20 extra minutes each morning for the impending tantrum I know will be arising as I stare into my closet of meager goods.

Yesterday was the pinnacle. After going some serious rounds with the "dresses and skirts" section I got so mad I wound up not just rejecting some items but completely evicting them from my island by putting them into the suitcase and zipping it up. "You don't deserve a hanger you ugly @(*&$)!@!)*(#! I scraped together the remaining items that were not in some way banished or stomped upon and made it out the door to go to work. Black pants, shoes, t-shirt, cardigan. How can you go wrong? I was on the last part of my commute when I caught my reflection in a store window - black pants, yellow shoes, black t-shirt, yellow cardigan. Yes I'd dressed myself like a giant BEE!

My lord I miss my wardrobe! But given the proven inverse correlation I'm thinking when I actually get my loot, I'll simply have more to clean up next time. Maybe I should start booking 30 minutes extra!