Living small

Good morning, friends.  Can you guess from the photo what my last two weeks have been like?  The current stay-at-home order seems a restful and calm dream, but I'm trying.  Soon I will be able to take part in it more than the 3/4 time I have now.

I'm moving again, from this apartment to a much smaller but nearer and dearer one.  So, except for the day that the moving company came (the same three fellows who have moved me that many times so far) to put most of my too-bulky furniture into storage, my days are spent slowly descending those 36 steps to pack the car with bags and boxes, riding to the new place (more about that in a minute), unpacking them and putting what fits into place, then returning with the empties to isolate as I am supposed to.

I've had some much appreciated help on the weekend from Joseph, Alexander and a student who is wonderful at keeping distance, wearing his PPE, and cheerfully carrying my endless boxes of books to be distributed among the rescue mission, Joseph's house (sorry about that), and the new apartment...an even number each, it turned out.  Today my helper is coming back to carry the kitchen boxes (see above) while I take whatever bags my knees will tolerate.  The rest of the weekend will be about weeding art supplies, most of the framed and 3-d art going to a closet in the house nobody is using.

All this is pretty uninteresting, I'm sure, except for the part about much smaller.  "You have a LOT of stuff," my sister Ann reminded me sternly, when I told her about the one-bedroom idea, but she encouraged me nonetheless...she's always been a proponent of leaving a smaller print physically while living larger spiritually.  I can't blame her; it feels good to unload...except for the art and books, which, as you see, I have managed to palm off elsewhere for the time being.  I don't even mind how long the time being is.

As I put things in place in the new place, I have even come to resent some of the things I have to keep.  Every day finds me sneaking another item into to the give-away pile.  Will I miss this, I ask myself?  Nope.  The response comes quicker than my next breath, sometimes surprising me, mostly not.  I'd be willing to bet that the next few weeks, isolating calmly, will find me looking at possessions with an even more exacting (as in the knife) eye.

So, you are itching to comment, Where IS this place?  

It's on the corner of the University (really), three blocks from Joseph and Alexander's house and my old beloved neighborhood, one block from the arboretum, across the street from the Forest Theatre and Battle Park, and three more blocks from the campus libraries and Memorial Hall, where the concerts are.  It's a few more blocks to the middle of downtown CH, and walking distance to everything I have and want to do.  I can take the bus, too, if I've groceries.  I'll send photos when I settle in.

It's lovely, the place and the location, and it fell suddenly into my lap in the way of the universe when it tries to shake you awake.  Or, if you prefer the more realistic, it's on the ground floor of the house of friends of friends...of a few friends, in fact...though I hadn't met them before, we share a small slice of history.

Outside the apartment the patio slopes down to a peaceful garden.  While I was unpacking yesterday's lot, Joseph and Alexander rode bike and scooter over to surprise me, and we visited out in the nice day...or rather I sat there, and Alexander took turns playing hide and seek, running races, and rolling down the grassy hill.  I'm living small on the inside, but outside it's wide and wonderful.

Back to do my daily car load now.  Just wanted you to know there's nothing sedentary about life here, my sincere dedication to stay-at-home notwithstanding.  Is there ever?