I’m moving on up, kids.
That’s gonna take some getting used to, but we are moving on up. I live, currently, beside an oil refinery. Don’t know if you’ve ever seen or smelled an oil refinery, but it looks like an international space station and it smells, in the best case scenario, like a bait shop. It just depends on what’s going on over there from day to day, but it could smell like anything from rotten eggs to fracking waste, or offal, or deer carcasses in the midst of a Pennsylvania winter.
That’s wet, sweet, warm, and organic, if you’ve never had the joy of smelling a deer carcass before either.
Don’t know what kinda life you’re living, but. Whatever.
Anyhow, I just spent a bunch of time and energy redoing the first two rooms in my house, trying to paint the past away, so to speak. And then my stepdad asked me why didn’t I rent his gigantic house in the country instead.
A pricey house for less than the cost of rent in a shitty apartment in this area?
Where the hell do I sign?
Because that’s a mega hell yes, good sir.
So, after the cathartic work of redoing the living room and dining room in the home I’d have been in 12 years this February, I’ll be more or less relocated within the month to a house I’ve loved since the day my mom brought me to her then-boyfriend’s place for the first time.
I honestly can’t believe it’s going to be mine. It’s over 100 years old, an old farmhouse with a huge backyard, a perfect spot for the girls’ stocktank pool, dirt roads, visible stars, a fire pit, a place to learn to shoot (new hobby…have I mentioned?), and thousands of wild blackberries a 20-minute walk in either of two directions.
This is my new road:
Amish buggies and tractors? It’s truly lovely.
I finished putting the kitchen together today. Observe:
It’s been a surprise to a lot of people that I was so willing – eager, even – to give up the house I just put so much time and energy into beginning to redecorate.
But how can I not? I’ve wanted to move all this time. It’s just been a matter of means. Actually, the lack thereof to be precise. The work has been cathartic. It has been helpful. But letting go of the place altogether? I can think of no better way to slough off the weight of my marriage’s emotional baggage than to vacate the home in which it all went down.
Here’s to new places.
And, it’s Tenacious Tuesday. So here’s a song about shitty places by The Big D.
The Tenacious one.
God. I’m such a child. There is no good reason for me to love Jack Black the way I do.
If I were capable of feeling shame I’d be ashamed of myself right now.
So lucky I can’t.
Love ya, bitches.