I’m in between homes right now, which is a little weird. Last Monday the movers came and emptied out my Bethesda apartment, the next day my dog Molly and I made the drive up I-95 to my mom and stepdad’s house in eastern CT, and I’m here until Thursday when I get the keys to the Meriden townhouse.
I’ve lived alone for nearly 6 years. I’m not always sure it’s the best thing for me, I can go a little feral when left to my own devices (do dishes really need to be done? what’s a decent bedtime anyway?), but I like having privacy and my own space. So sharing half a duplex with two other people isn’t my favorite. Though I would like my mom and stepdad to have fewer (or just quieter) opinions on where I spent Thanksgiving and where I’m moving to, and Molly will be happy when she no longer has to fear their very angry cat taking a swipe at her, it’s not their fault I want to leave. I just want to have my own furniture and setup back, not have to tiptoe around past 9 PM, and not have a TV or two constantly at 80 bajillion decibels, what the fuck, but these are all me problems and not them problems, and I’m doing my level best to keep petty complaints to myself and be a good houseguest.
I’m never patient, and right now I’m particularly impatient to get into the townhouse and start setting it up. Unpacking isn’t great, but packing is worse and I already did that part. I want to build up a routine and start getting used to calling Meriden home. I don’t know how to do that yet and it makes me feel unsettled.
One of the perks of my current situation, though, is that I’ve had plenty of time to listen to some good music. One song I’ve been listening to in particular is a Guy Clark classic “L.A. Freeway,” which he wrote upon moving from Los Angeles to Nashville. I’ve always loved it and I feel it very acutely now. It captures a complex blend of emotions that come with moving - the bit of melancholy at the good things about an old home, the frustration at the various tasks and annoyances, the happiness at knowing something better is up the road where you’re headed. I love it and I hope you do too.
Throw out them LA papersAnd that moldy box of vanilla wafersAdios to all this concreteGonna get me some dirt road backstreets
If I could just get off of this LA freewayWithout getting killed or caughtI’ll be down the road in a cloud of smokeTo some land I ain’t bought, bought, bought