From December 11 to December 19, my life was a blur of boxes and U-Hauls and trips back and forth between People’s Republic and DeVos’ Dominion. On December 20, Mr. EW and I left our apartment still packed high with boxes and drove back to People’s Republic, this time to stay not at our house, but at a Clarion Inn that seems to be stuck in the Swinging (and I do mean swinging) Seventies about a mile away. Woke up the next morning, sold our house for about $700 more than we owed and 35% less than we paid for it, dropped Mr. EW off at the airport for a flight to a frozen Dublin, then drove 9 hours with McCaffrey the MilleniaLab as my co-pilot to PA. After a week of family and shuttling family members around to weather delayed planes–including fetching Mr. EW after his 48-hour trip back from a still frozen-over Dublin–Mr. EW and I got back in the car and drove 12 hours to return to DeVos’ Dominion. After all the driving, I was so tuckered out I fell asleep long before the New Year.
Thing is, it feels like a New Year around here. I’m going to spend the weekend cramming the contents of the boxes into our temporary apartment (though Mr. EW, in a bid to keep the box fort he’s built up around his desk–that’s it in the picture–has informed me Congress has extended the PATRIOT Act for him and with it the imperative to maintain his fort). Maybe I’ll even ask Mr. EW to put a picture or two on the wall. We’re still looking for a more permanent place to live, though in an era where banks continue to treat property rights like toilet paper, it feels good to have no home.
And finally selling the house and returning home from the holidays means I should have far more time to immerse myself in weedy documents, something I’ve been missing for the last while.
So in spite of the fact that 2011 will feature all the same challenges that 2010 did, I definitely feel like it’s a new year.
Let’s hope we find a way to make it a happy one.