Feelings of neediness and inadequacy lurk in the corners as the countdown to Moving Day looms in the distance. When one is headstrong, one marches, shoulders flung back or hunched forward, depending on mood, oblivious to the often valid reasons as to why one should not pursue one’s heart’s desire. A word one rarely hears in every day NJ chatter. Hubris. Alas, I have it in spades sometimes. Biblically speaking, it’s the Pride sin. What I’ve so often overlooked is that like the bricks which hold up the grey goddess, my foundation could stand some re-pointing.
We failed at this venture the last time. Some of it, although not all, had to do with our own hubris. Then there were our wretched bookkeeping ways, and add to that the maelstrom of the US Economy 2008. Why should we get to go back? We lost this house and proved to ourselves as well as to the bank, we couldn’t keep it together.
That thing about seeing our parents’ qualities in our partners… My husband has the same business acumen that my father did. Which is to say, he does not. Have any. And it’s nice to love a person despite the absence of common fiscal sense. The challenge is, I don’t have much either.
But, gentle reader, remember- your blogger is nothing if not headstrong. The Move, Part One took place this morning, beginning at 10 and ended by 4.30. Enough strapping lad talent had been secured that they fearlessly loaded the correct size of UHaul truck, brought the junk (which most of it is, really) to the house, rinsed and then repeated. The Move, Part Two takes place this time next week. My spouse does indeed feel some misgivings, but for the Pollyanna that lives in at least this cynical old
gal, I love, love, love it.