Moving Day

"HEAVE!" 

My sweaty hands frantically grip the corner of the seemingly innocent armoire as I push it out of the garage. It's my seventh moving day. Whenever I tell people I am moving, they gasp and start apologizing. I hate their pity because I actually don't mind moving. It is cleansing, and puts life in perspective a bit. Life is all change and transition, and moving is simply when the illusion of regularity is broken. I feel like I am shedding layers of unwanted skin. We are leaving behind my mom's horrible boyfriend and the memories of him that have accumulated like a layer of grime on the bathroom floor. 

Here's my mom's ex... The fedora basically sums things up.

Here is a delightful picture I took of the North
Shore of Oahu to rid yourself of the scarring image above.
If you are still as disturbed as I am, distract yourself with
this video: 

The stark yellow Penske truck lumbers slowly into our driveway. (If you need one, cause every one needs to rent a truck once and a while, here is a link: http://www.pensketruckrental.com/?CID=13735670-VQ16-c) I fling my mattress, the bed frame, my beloved bookshelf, and my worn desk into the truck. My friends and I haphazardly shove the armoire in last. Our baby cat wanders around our legs as we work, sensing the transition, hesitantly sniffing. My red Carola is stuffed with pillows and clothes from my old room and I am ready to set off. 

my roomies, yes my brother is that
annoying. 

Feeling like a part of a funeral procession, my friends pull out behind me, their cars also stuffed with our random possession, and I follow the truck as it oozes down 101. We turn in to our new townhouse and quickly unload the truck. My room is an explosion of vibrant shirts, art supplies and old pieces of homework. I push my bed into a       corner and toss my stuff in to the walk-in closet. 

Our loyal friends and family slowly trickle out and the sun drops away leaving a grandiose picture of fluffy peach and periwinkle brushstrokes. My muscles ache dully as invisible knives chink away at my spine. Stupid armoire. The AC is off and I am a hot mess. I fling myself around in bed trying to get comfortable, drenched in sweat. Mosquitoes, let in by the open doors earlier, buzz around my face triumphantly, cockily. I start thinking about Harry Potter to try to settle my mind... Wingardium Leviosa! Expecto Patronum! Finally I feel myself in that half conscious state where sleep is on the verge of  claiming me when my mom bursts into my room to grab my car keys. I give up. Around three I finally nod off.

In the morning the sky is a murky mirage of grey. I open our shiny new stainless steel fridge and pull out the leftover Thai food for breakfast. I hungrily gulp bites of pho and fried rice as I ponder what other adventures my new home has in store.