As reported, I moved a few days ago. I finally got the stragglers out and everything was just like new on Thursday, Halloween. I started to post on that day, but I was just too busy. I slept on the hardwood floor for a few hours, and not well. I got up early and started hauling and cleaning again. In all, I filled three storage units. How did all this stuff get into a two bedroom apartment anyway? I ended up leaving a kitchen table, a wooden bench and a four poster bed for the new occupant. Luckily she wanted it all...she was moving in with very little. She was searching Craigslist and saw what looked incredibly familiar: a vintage kitchen table, sitting in the middle of a kitchen that she'd seen recently. Oh yea, it was the apartment she was moving into! She e-mailed me with just her first name, and I took a chance that it was the Carmen I'd just met a few weeks earlier. Yay for both of us. I didn't have to figure out how to move those last large items, and she had a few bits of furniture to start out with. At the end of the day, surrounded by my belongings (I could have used a fourth storage unit), I reluctantly settled into a recliner at my sister and mom's house, a house which should be big enough for all of us, but is already filled to the brim with "stuff". I was in pain, both physically and emotionally. Timing is everything, and I did not time my lease end date and move-in date very well. So, I have a layover of at least a month, and realistically, probably more. Struggling, but more about that later.
It's Saturday morning and we can't find anything. I have a ton of laundry in the basement. The bulb over the washer and dryer is out. I can't see my clothes...they don't smell dirty, but they don't smell clean. That's a chance I don't like to take, so I found a pair of cuffed, gray slacks in my mom's drawer. They're not hers because she doesn't wear pants. I'm guessing that someone gave them to me at some point. I forced myself into them, because they're about a size too small. They are too short and my rusty, ashy ankles are showing. I can't find any socks. I put on my sister's purple sweater, which fits okay, but isn't long enough to cover my tush, which looks ridiculous anyway, but even more so with the too tight pants and lack of underwear (couldn't find any of those either!) I make the decision to drive my daughter wherever she needs to go today, and stay in the car.
First stop, the shopping center because she's on her way to work, then spending the weekend in the city with friends. She found boots, pj's and toiletries. She comes out dejected---she couldn't find what she really wanted, and was lamenting the purchase of shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, underwear and other items that she already has too many of, but can't find. We decide to return to my sister's house, hoping that our belongings have miraculously organized themselves and we can find them quickly. No such luck. We picked up a weekender (bag) with a duct taped handle. Not the image she's trying to project, plus it was ugly even before the duct tape. More dejection. The mood lightened due to the almost non-existent traffic on the Dan Ryan Expressway. Until....we exited. I really hate driving on the North side. The mix of cars, bikes, dogs, people and angled streets is not for the inexperienced driver. Or me.
Somehow, we manage to inject laughter back into the morning by people watching . Guys in shorts on a 38 degree day. Girls in heavy coats, hats, scarves, boots, and mini skirts with bare legs. I'll never figure that one out, especially as I watch the frostbite form on your uncovered thigh-to-calf region. Hello....tights? And if I see another guy in an infinity scarf, I'm going to scream. Something about that just isn't right, and just saying so made both of us laugh. After angled street after angled street sent me off in unknown directions (I lost my GPS phone and I really need it!), I finally found our destination. She needed to work a library event, so I headed off to look for the missing components of her outfit. She has boots, she has underwear. My job is to find the rest. Not wanting to get lost, I headed straight up Broadway Ave. and found a Target. I can definitely make that work...but I look awful...I'm staying in the car. Let me figure this one out...
I parked in Target's nice, warm, underground parking lot. There, I sorted through the bag that she'd thrown together, the bag from this morning, and the miscellany that always rides with me. She brought a purple sweater too! But, it has a seam tear. I dug through my glove box and found a needle and thread. Note to self: if you don't find what you need in Target, you can always sew this sweater up. I spent about 30 minutes straightening up my car. I found a plastic bag with an extension cord, cellphone charger, makeup, medicine and candy on the floor, things I'd dumped together when I had had enough of packing, hauling and moving. Okay, she can use the mascara, so I put it in her bag (the one with the duct tape). I took the toothpaste out of the box, and took one toothbrush out of the multi-pack. I took two pairs of undies out of the package. There was nothing I could do with the huge bottles of shampoo and conditioner, so they had to stay. I found a big t-shirt in the trunk, which I figured she could wear instead of the big, fleecy pj's she'd just bought. It took up much less room and she could take the pj's back. Less to lament. Now to get into that store. I figured it was about a 30 second sprint into the store, but my sprinting days are over. Maybe if I walk really slowly, these cuffs won't swing around my ashy ankles so fiercely and no one will notice. One thing working in my favor was that pack of undies. Two sizes too small for me, but only because she bought them one size too big for herself. You'll get that one later.
I tucked a pair (bikinis, seriously?) in my purse, put on my leather jacket, which covers a multitude of sins, and did a little sum sum to my hair. (Thank you God for good skin...) I also held my head down and made a beeline for the bathroom (which was stinky, but who am I to complain?) Is this really Target? Wow, great reminder that this is not the suburbs! While I
I got to the checkout counter and paid my $24.51 bill. An extra long Philip Lim bedazzled tank. A black short sleeved t-shirt that I'm going to make into a shrug as soon as I get back in the car. A pair of black tights. My idea? That my daughter's short enough to wear the tank as a dress. She just bought short black boots. This would work for a night on the town, and if not, she could just keep on the jeans she's already wearing and feel less "exposed". By now, my back was killing me, my feet were killing me, my knees were killing me...shall I go on? I got into the car, did my little shrug conversion and felt very proud of myself. I repacked that duct-taped bag of my sister's into a .99 Target reusable shopping bag. Much more chic, trust me.
Say it isn't so...it can't be...call me dejected--again. On my way back to the library, I discovered that around the corner from Target there's a SA. That's Salvation Army for you non-thrifters. I almost cried, knowing full well that I could have gotten a complete outfit in there for under $25. But, the deed is done and I did not turn around. Why torture myself? I got back to the library with an hour to spare, so I sat there in the parking lot and sewed up that sweater. When I got out, I noticed some beautiful trees and returned to the car for my camera. I was sure I'd brought that camera. WHERE IS THAT CAMERA?? At least I had my laptop so I went inside and surfed until my daughter appeared, ready to head out. When we got to the car I showed her my finds, and also told her about SA. Not very impressed by my purchases, and nearly appalled at my homemade shrug, she suggested we go ahead and stop at SA while we waited for her friend to pick her up. Of course, we got in there and she found three dresses within the first five minutes, finally settling on a cute black dress with crochet trim and a fringed black tank top. Salsa tonight, salsa next week. She figures she's set. Back in the car, we dig for receipts so that we can return our hastily purchased finds (well, she needed the tights, and that black t-shirt has been altered to the point that I don't think they'll take it back...lol!). The fluffy, fleecy pj's can go back too. We both feel better.
I haven't heard yet how the night out went. She's hanging out with a few friends from school, and the last I heard, they were at Lincoln Park Zoo. I'm sure that something I packed in that bag was appropriate for today. Maybe a $9 t-shirt turned shrug?
1 comment:
You are too funny!
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