On household changes and another opportunity to experience humility

Not only am I undergoing changes (to what I'm not sure) but the house is also. In anticipation of Robert moving in with me, we've added to the house and while we were at it, have touched every existing space. You can see pictures up until mid-April here, accessible with an ofoto username and password. Eventually, I'll post some "after" pictures too.

Most of the project has been easy. But there have been some tough periods where I've felt like I'm just slogging through and have needed a pep talk. But of course I've always known those feelings were temporary and that there'd be something much better on the other side. This is in comparison to most other types of changes where you just plunge in and have no clue what's on the other side.

This week, we're undergoing one of the toughest change periods since the project began back in late December. Under the theory that we might as well do a level-set so we don't have to disrupt ourselves in just a few years, we're painting and recarpeting the existing space. The painters were here earlier this week, painting upstairs and down. Today, thanks to a last-minute cancellation, the rug guys are here, replacing any carpet they haven't already laid in their first two trips.

This work has necessitated moving everything out of the living room and dining room -- pictures, furniture, all the little comfortable things I live with. At this point in the project, I've moved all my possessions, save some of the items in the upper kitchen cabinets, at least once, and some multiple times.

Yes I'm grateful to live in a time and place when I can pay someone else -- experts, no less -- to do the renovations. And I hope I don't sound like I'm complaining. So what's hard? Just the psychological realization of how much stuff and how much dirt I live with. I'm happy to let the dirt go -- despite fairly regular cleanings, I'm sure we'll see it again before too long. Or maybe we won't. The bad dirt was behind things. But I let myself think that I live fairly lightly. And the plain truth is that I don't. So this is a week of confronting that demon.

I'm trying hard to set things aside for a mythical yard sale. Robert will have a few items to get rid of too. I'm thinking of some bookcases he'll no longer need after storing most of his books in a built-in bookcase we had made for him. And of course, it's always hard to let go of stuff. I've held onto it for a reason. Now, by letting it go, it can feel like I'm letting go of the connection -- perhaps to the person who gave the item to me or the memory of the event at which I acquired the item.

I'm also feeling humbled by the psychological pulls of moving. It's hard physical work, which I don't mind, but it's hard on my head too. Robert and I both moved a lot when we were kids. I moved a lot as my family decided how to configure itself, a polite way of saying that as a youngster, the adults in my life couldn't decide how they wanted to live or whom they wanted to live with, or where they wanted to do all of the above. Robert moved because his father's job demanded it. (Robert did get to attend the last two years of high school in the same school because even his dad had had enough by that time.)

One might think that our experiences have made us more flexible, ready to pull up stakes at a moment's notice. Instead, we've become settled as adults, reluctant to move at all. I've lived in the same place for 14 years, Robert for about 10.

I think of myself as a fairly compassionate person. I hope that without moving a stick of furniture, I would have been cheerful and supportive as Robert moved. Now that I've gone through most of a household move recently, however, I'm hoping that I will be even more compassionate and supportive when it's Robert's turn.

So now I look forward to moving everything back into the place it came from, perhaps after giving it a good cleaning. Actually, I look forward to having most everything back in its comfortable and familiar spot, to settling into my favorite chair to read the paper, to having the cat question less at having her routine disrupted. Let the settling in begin.