(Visitor to Longwood Gardens. Photo by Robin. July 2007)
I was sitting here watching So You Think You Can Dance, feeling a little bored by it. When you don’t have cable television, your television viewing is fairly limited (although surprisingly varied in terms of how many stations we can pick up with rabbit ears).
I don’t know why I’m bored with it tonight. I usually enjoy watching people dance.
Perhaps it’s the heat. Perhaps it’s that I need to get up and do a little dancing of my own rather than sit here as a spectator in the dance of life.
But it’s hot. Too hot to move.
The Salvation Army will be here tomorrow to pick up the furniture we borrowed from a friend. He (our friend) wants to donate it. Hopefully they’ll take it all. I have a strong feeling they won’t take the sofa. Not because there’s anything wrong with the sofa. It’s in good shape.
This morning M talked with someone from the Salvation Army who called to confirm tomorrow’s pick-up date (typically unable to narrow down when they would be here except to say it will be between 8am and 4pm). The guy asked if everything was on the ground floor. M replied, “No. It’s in a 5th floor apartment.” Of course he told them that little detail when he arranged for pick-up. Then the guy asked if there was a service elevator. M, being the master of not giving out too much information when it’s in his best interests not to, replied, “Yes, there’s an elevator.”
There are, in fact, two elevators. Two small elevators, not designed to carry furniture. There is no service elevator.
I don’t know about you, but based on those questions, my bet is that they won’t take the sofa because it will be a bear to lug down five flights of stairs. On a hot and humid day without air conditioning, it will be hell. I’ve heard the tale of our youngest son and my brother-in-law carrying the sofa UP the five flights of stairs at the end of November. They worked up quite a sweat when the weather was cold.
Going down will be easier. Even so, I have a strong feeling we’re going to have to find some other way to have that sofa moved. Maybe put up a sign in the building: “Free sofa. All you have to do is move it.”
I can’t believe how quickly the time has gone by during this sabbatical. While I’m happy to be going home and looking forward to all sorts of new adventures in the Bogs, I’m a little sad to be leaving this place that has been our home away from home. I don’t mean the apartment. I mean the area.
I was born and raised in this area. The accents, the attitudes, the politics, the lay of the land are still familiar to me after all this time away. In a way, this is home for me too. My family is here. My childhood is here. It is here that I’m a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a member of something that stretches back way before my time, and will continue to stretch forward way ahead of me and my time. I know I’m still those things when I’m away. The thing is, I feel them more deeply here.
I’m fairly confident in saying that who I am today is more attributable to my time away from where I grew up than my time spent here. I was young when I married and moved away. I’ve changed and grown a lot over the past (almost) 31 years. However, my roots are here. You can take the girl out of New Jersey, but I guess it’s true you can’t take Jersey out of the girl.
And as we all know, Jersey girls rock.
There’s also the matter of there being much we wanted to do but didn’t have time to get around to or had to cancel due to weather or other conditions. We’ve been trying to cram stuff in during the last month. It’s just not possible to do it all.
That’s life, I suppose. It’s just not possible to do it all.
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