Moving Up

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

I moved. Not far, mind you. Just to a third floor apartment instead of my old first floor apartment that was rife with noise from the people upstairs. The new place is rife with sunshine, wood floors, and quiet. I watch less television now. I listen to the radio more, and to podcasts. Life is definitely more peaceful.

There was a bit of a hangup when it came to the big bookshelf that was to go in the new living room. It’s a five-shelf, elegant black affair, and had fit in just fine in the old living room, which was a bit on the gloomy side. In the new living room, however, it acted like a black hole and sucked all the light into the corner where it was supposed to live, and made the room feel all sorts of dark. Like Count Dracula was hanging out by the kitchen, waiting to pounce whenever I needed a late night glass of water.

Needless to say, the bookshelf did not remain in the living room. It migrated to the bedroom, where it somehow did not suck up all the light, but fit perfectly between the door and the window.

Then came the tracking down and organizing of the books. They had been scattered throughout the boxes, as I didn’t want to have to haul a big box of books up flights of stairs. Knowing my luck, I would have toppled back down the stairs and landed badly with a bunch of books falling all over, and that would have been the end of me. So they were mixed in with other things- towels, art supplies, the silverware. . . Suffice it to say that I am an eclectic packer.

But all the books have been found, the boxes sent to be recycled, and all is in happy order at home.

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