Woke up this morning at the
crack of dawn and
went to work, not stopping to think that it was
Martin Luther King Day, and I didn't
have
work. I don't mind at all, and no one knows of my
folly except for us.
Home from work at 9:00 a.m., what a feeling! And
I spent all day moving into my new room.
I haven't unpacked yet, but that's not the point,
nor is the fact that I moved out of my old place on December 31.
No.
I am happy because today is C.'s wedding, which
means she is officially moved out, and the
three of us in the flat can now rearrange the whole
place and get the new dynamics moving.
So I moved into my room, (it's smallish but big
on personal space); Delli and Tania moved into the
larger room which they will share. Being the strongest
of us three, and how sad is that I
was the one who moved beds and dressers and shelves,
I am the one who heaved and grunted while they
toted clothing around (not bad) or tried to help by
grabbing the other end of things (worse).
Showering later, primping for the wedding, I take
stock of my body. Big red welt in middle of my
back, from standing up under the shelves I forgot
jutted out from the wall. Large colorful bruises
all over my legs from when I used them to brace the
weight or maneuver
something better. Little dots in the bend of my
arm where some capillaries burst from exertion.
I'm tired, but it's a good sort of tired.