Confessions of a Moveaholic

As of late, I realize I’ve been terrible at blogging. More than superstar status though with Facebook, Twitter and whatever other silly thing I can think of to distract myself with. It’s what I do best, I suppose. That and moving. Yes, I do that brilliantly. And should since I’ve done it a total of twenty-two times over the course of my adult lifetime. Wow. What an astounding number given I’m not in the military (FEMA doesn’t count), and according to the US Census Bureau the average American only moves twelve times. And for all the normal reasons. New job. Better job. Bigger house. Smaller house. Getting married. Getting divorced. One kid. Ten kids.

However, while some of those reasons were applicable to me, for the most part I believe I get up and go more often than most simply because I can. I don’t feel encumbered to maintain roots in any single place, not with a middle name of “tumbleweed” I don’t. Nor do I stress out so much about money, where it’s coming from, where it’s going to, because I’ve always believed where there’s a will there’s a way.

Perhaps that sounds a bit naive. And maybe it is. But it works for me. And now with my recent move squarely behind me, all the knickknacks and mishegosh of my life acclimating once again to their new environment, I find myself digging a bit deeper into that why factor.

First and foremost, I hate clutter

Moving gives me that excuse to get rid of all the junk hiding under the bed, in the closets and anywhere else one chooses to squirrel things away. It also permits me to shop till I drop. Not that I ever needed an excuse for that, but it certainly sounds good.

I get to wear a badass bandana and have fun

Not everyone can pull this one off. Yet I think it looks good on me. No?

How else do you get to make new friends in such a short amount of time?

I tend to think that while certain relationships are fleeting, it’s all about living in the moment. Especially when those moments are also fleeting.

I love to travel

Some people are content right where they are. I’m not. I get bored easily. Places and faces grow stale after a while and in my mind there’s nothing sexy about knowing what’s around the corner. Whether I move down the block, across the state, across the country, to another country, the experience is always exhilarating. Sure getting on a plane to San Francisco, Italy, Greece, or some other yummy destination for your annual vacation is very nice. But it’s not the same thing as moving there. Nothing touches one more than going out of your comfort zone, way out there, setting up shop where you don’t know anyone and have to start from scratch. It’s tough stuff. It tells you exactly what you’re made of.

It keeps me young

Well it used to. I have to admit this last one was a killer. Since I’d sold off all my furniture traveling from California back to Florida and I have not as yet had the opportunity or the wherewithal to buy anything other than a bed, a desk, a chair and a laptop (all this writer girl actually needs, but that occasional person dropping by might not agree), I believed this would be a slam-dunk of a move. However, even the most diligent of movers could not have anticipated the elevator breaking down. And with a 95-degree sun beating down on our backs, hauling twenty boxes down four flights of steps, needless to say my son was not at all a happy camper. Nor was I.

maudit i love lucy my favorite episode

New doors open that weren’t open before

I have to admit in those early years I had no clue what to expect. Maybe that’s what makes it so grand, the unexpected. I knew I would eventually make new friends, find a new life wherever I went. However, what I came away with was so much than I could ever have imagined. In Forest Hills, NY (my first move), I found my sense of independence. I saw a glimmer of my older self. Who I was to become. In Guadalajara, Mexico, I found love. I lost love. In Florida, I found a family. In California I absorbed quite a few pearls of wisdom. Things I knew, things I’d forgotten along the way. We are who we are. No regrets. Love thyself, all of thyself. Lots of good stuff, without a doubt.

And now that I have come full circle back to Florida, I found the greatest gift of all. A baby named Cupcake. Need I say anything more on that one?

At this stage of the game, I have no idea how many more moves are in the cards for me. Only time will tell on that one, I suppose. That and perhaps a winning Lottery ticket (which I never buy). But in the meantime, here I stay. And with Cupcake’s second birthday coming up in a few days, here I definitely stay. Well, at least for a little while anyway.

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