ever get that feeling

Did you ever see the movie Groundhog Day? The gist of it is Bill Murray's character keeps repeating the same day over and over again, until he gets it right. I am starting to feel a little bit like that about this move thing.

Someone recently pointed out that things start to go wrong with the place I currently reside right before I move. In Austin, the squirrel came down the chimney, in Emeryville, the toilet tank sprung a leak that required them to take it away to get it fixed (someone also parked in our space for the first time in ten years and a pipe breaking down the block caused them to close off the road so we couldn't get to our storage space). Here in Chicago we have recently had plumbing problems, a leak, and are going through the hallway renovation from hell.

Another thing that has happened in recent moves is that an order I place on line gets seriously messed up. In Austin, a company that 'forgot to charge me' decided they would just resend the order. In Emeryville, Pottery Barn was training new staff at the warehouse, and oops, the labels on some of the orders ended up on the wrong boxes, and I got someone else's order. Currently I have having an interesting experience re-ordering checks.

And then there are the phone calls from my Aunt. In Austin, she called to tell me my sister was gravely ill while I was literally up to my neck in boxes. Before the move to Chicago, she called to tell me that my sister had died (a year and two weeks previous). And yesterday I received a note from her saying that her father passed away and her mom isn't expected to live much longer (oh, and my cousin, who swore he would never marry did - so a little good news).

We lost touch for over a year because I got busy and changed my phone number, and I guess she lost my address, and you know how that can go. Also they were having this awful time because a new home they bought had serious mold damage, and last I spoke with them they had been forced to move to a hotel. I guess I was having enough trouble dealing with my own craziness, that I couldn't deal with anyone else's. Perhaps that makes me selfish. I don't know.

And I don't know how to respond to this letter. I know I need to call her. But I don't know what to say. And again, I know this sounds very selfish, but with each loss, even if it doesn't hit close to home, I get to relive my own, for better or worse. And given where I sit right now, I don't know that I can do that without going over the edge. Seriously.

And so I think about this silly Bill Murray movie and have to ask myself what is the right thing to do? Because I am getting tired of all this moving. I really am. And so if there is some way for me not to have to do it again (and again), I would like to know. Please.

currently reading :: A LONG WAY DOWN by Nick Hornby