All New - Phew!

After months of living homeless in other kindly people's homes, here I am in my own brand-new  place at last. It's all modish, sparkling and shiny. Each tiny scratch or scuff mark is instantly attended to. I hope this fussiness doesn't continue; I have other things to do. Like writing, for example. Finally, here, I have stopped crashing into corners that defy speed shuffling while carrying things that are desperate to find a shelf or drawer. I have almost stopped bruising myself against unfamiliar corners, doors that leap out at me and jutting appliance handles.  I have even come to tolerate the pile of cardboard boxes, as yet,  in the middle of my so-called Great Room. Great Room? What it really means is a room where you combine dining, living, lounging and cooking. Is nothing secret these days?  Wall-less is a better term, but awkward in print. Sizing down sounds so marvelous. It appears  all you have to do is discard the ugly sweaters or the vase your gramma gave you, you know, the big one that always made you cringe but "Gramma gave it to me".  I remember Gramma, but her vase has got to go.  "Good things" have to go. Out, silver, crystal, precious ceramic statues, little pictures, out all the better-keep it-you-never-knows. My country mother-in-law dumped her sizing-down goods into the "old" well. I have, instead, the Salvation Army and the hospital thrift store. Perhaps someone else will value the cut glass, china and travel memorabilia that, as I pack it up for the last time, pulls like farewells to old friends. The place smells new and I wish I could enjoy it more but first, that pile of boxes calls me. It won't go away by itself!