home sweet home

My mother & two sisters came over yesterday to help me move a dresser and left 3 hours later having filled several bags full of 'stuff' for goodwill, convinced me to stick a "free" sign on my couch and leave it on the street corner (it was gone within 2 hours) and reorganized my living room, front room and bedroom. Wow.

The harbinger of what was to come was my mother's question, "What can I do?", while we were waiting for my sisters. I was in the middle of making oatmeal raisin cookies and I looked at her, confused, how many people does she think it takes to make cookies? Turns out, she meant what can she do around the apartment because it was "pretty cluttered". Or maybe she said "messy". I forget. But I was concerned because, with the exception of the Saturday papers and the usual odds and ends hanging about, my apartment was waaaaay more organized than usual. At least I thought so.

I was wrong. Apparently my apartment was 'cluttered', 'messy', and full of 'India-yoga bullshit'. When my sisters arrived the three of them transpired into a whirling dervish of activity. I don't know how else to explain it - they just moved and moved and moved while my contribution was limited to standing, confused or trailing aimlessly behind them offering oatmeal raisin cookies. Well, that, and defending burnt-out lightbulbs (who notices that kind of stuff?), non-existent dishtowels (who uses those?), and explaining why I really, absolutely, can't possibly dispose of anymore books (I NEED every book I currently have. Or, you know, I might one day).

The general consensus when we (ok, they) were done was "there, now you can breathe". Part of me wanted to go on the defensive but I couldn't, it was true. It's not that I'm a slob (shut up), it's more that when it comes to aesthetics - I just don't get it. I like looking nice, I like my surroundings to look nice but I don't have that eye that tells me what to do to make that happen. Just tell me what to wear or how to organize my apartment and I'm happy.

Lucky for me, every other person in my family has that eye and they were generous with their Saturday mornings (thanks guys :). My new and improved living room with one less couch is so much lighter, the hallway more spacious without the additional bookcase and my room is absolutely perfect now that I've cleared out the extra dresser. I didn't want to leave the apartment this morning. I just wanted to stay home and enjoy it. But I dragged myself to yoga. And that. freaking. sucked.

I don't write about yoga often, there are no words, but lately, it sucks. My wrists hurt so chataranga (like a push up) kills, my ankles are sore so upward dogs/lotus positions kill and my hamstring tears are back in full effect so every single other pose kills as well. It has for the last few weeks and today was just enough. I left the room to cry my big, self-pitying alligator tears in private. So frustrating. And I know it's my head, not my body, but life is settled - I'm settled - so why the head stuff now? Whatever.

All I know is that all I really wanted was to be back in my airy, gorgeous apartment with music playing, cat cuddling, and tea brewing which is exactly what I'm doing. And it's perfect.