The Move (Part two of three)
couple of hours and a leisurely lunch later and we had come to a
ladies' agreement that had me starting a new job in two weeks
What was I thinking?!? Obviously, I have lost my mind completely
and am suffering from a case of mistaken identity. Have mistaken
self for enterprising and efficient person with the ability
to organize and pack several years worth of accumulated paraphernalia
into a pathetically insufficient number of boxes. Must then move
halfway round the world to a new time zone and unpack into an as-of-yet-to-be-located
new apartment. All while starting (of course I'll start)
new job with highly fashionable (and intimidating) new employer
who is also under the mistaken impression that I am extremely
enterprising and efficient person!
Must calm down.
Deep breath. Am clearing mind, thinking calm thoughts, saying soothing
mantra over and over (new job means new shoes, new job means new
shoes) Lighting soothing
There, much better now, am ready to be rational. All I need is a
boxes, packing tape and a fridge full of icy Diet Coke to carry
me through. Not all that much to it, just notify my landlord, all
utility companies, phone, postal service (must make sure all fashion/style/celebrity
are forwarded post haste), be sure to get haircut and highlights
done (who knows how long it will take me to find the perfect stylist
in my new life in my new city), schedule final mani/pedi
(weepy over leaving T)
Oh dear, might cry
thought—how on earth am I ever going to be able to pack and safely
transport painstakingly acquired shoe collection, some of which were a bit
pricey (as I recall I ate only ramen noodles and free packets of
soda crackers for a week to pay for one particular pair). Should
I hire a courier? Do I dare ship them ahead on their own? Am in
a quandary. Having nightmares about my tenderly-cared-for and individually labeled boxes of high-end
being whisked onto a moving/transport/freight vehicle, and then
vanishing completely, possibly turning up on the doorstep of an
unsuspecting retirement home in the middle of nowhere. Frightening
flashes of geriatric-bunioned-yellow-toenailed digits being thrust
into my prized Versace's
and then shuffling off to the bingo parlor. Oh, there's the doorbell,
Cute UPS man at door.
for a package, I noticed a shiny red minivan stop across the street.
Lightbulb idea: why not rent a minivan and transport the shoes myself?
That way I can keep them within my sight at all times. But unsure
of stylishness of minivan (am more of a Mini Cooper girl). Would
instantly be labeled new single girl with minivan. Perhaps instead
All celebs drive monstrous SUVS. Executive chic, no? Although, to
continue projecting executive image I would probably have to actually
own the sexy little SUV and be seen driving it on a regular basis.
(Note to self: check into the possibility of a signing bonus with
solved my little shoe dilemma. Feel much better now. New purchase
has obviously worked its magic and I am up to any challenge. I must
admit that I was completely freaked out about leaving dear Shop
Girl and the thought of having to
choose appropriate and
all on my own. I have a fear of sabotaging myself by attempting
to look chic and professional while actually looking like an FBI
agent on stakeout (You know how I love navy). However, Shop Girl
has assured me that she will make it a top priority to keep me in
top form through email and trusty camera phone. She has been very
supportive and helpful reminding me that packing boxes is hard on
your hands and nails and to make sure I use extra solar oil on the
way there to remedy any cuticle strain. I think we've made an unspoken
agreement to not say goodbye officially. Shop Girl hates to cry.
Shatters her icy image. But I know she's broken up about it too.
She thrives on being in charge and will miss managing my life. Can't
think about Shop Girl now. Must think about new life, new possibilities
and new boyfriends..
Onward and upward!...to
be continued next week.
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