Unfortunately, it happened: after almost 28 years together, my guy told me (on Christmas, no less) that he didn’t want to be together anymore. Apparently, at age 72, he wants someone younger. Of course, I am younger (I’m only 65), but I think he means someone in her 20s based on the women he’s been talking to in private on Facebook and on dating sites. Since he absolutely refused to move, I was the one forced to move. (He seems to have wanted me to stay, but I simply will not pay half the household bills or be with a man who is on dating sites and talking to women in private messages.)
I think, in theory, moving wasn’t too bad of a thing. Instead of decluttering in a lackadaisical manner, I began decluttering in earnest in June after I put my name on the waiting lists at a couple apartment complexes. And I got to move back to a city – the largest in New Mexico – and though it’s going to take me a while to get used to the sound of traffic 24/7, I grew up in cities and I actually prefer them. I grew up in cities where you could walk everywhere, and, in Ohio, I ultimately lived in a small village where you could walk everywhere. None of the places I’ve lived in New Mexico so far have provided the necessaries of life within walking distance or even had public transportation. Now I can once again walk to the grocery or bank, and there’s public transportation for when the weather gets bad.
All that is “moving in theory,” of course. In reality, it’s just as awful as I remember. The movers had to help me pack the final bit of my office and my things from the kitchen (and they did a fantastic job, so huge shoutout to 2 Men and a Truck!), but now I don’t know where anything from the kitchen is. (My books are in a storage unit.) I’ve had to go to the grocery twice to get some important things, like cat food, litter, litter boxes, and basically anything from the refrigerator and freezer that I accidentally left behind.
I got out with the most important things, however: my cats and my life. I decided months ago that I could lose everything else and still be happy. And I can’t tell you how much happier I am already to be living alone again. But the most important thing is that I feel safe and calm again.
I did manage to get some reading done this week, in the evenings, just before bed. I’m enjoying Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park,
having just finished Persuasion
. The best place to reach me is Twitter
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