Moving Day Cometh

I picked up the phone and started pulling triggers.  I signed the contract with the movers, locked in a date to pick up the keys, then bought a one way ticket for me and Scarlett, my opinionated ginger tabby.

"You're going to be a beach cat!"  I told her.

She squawked in opposition then turned and flipped me the tail on her way out to the patio.

I can't say I blame her.  Scarlett went through 2 moves during the year she lived with my mom in Kansas while I traveled around the world making TV shows.  She didn't like the idea of being a snow cat either and she doesn't like change.  She started acting nervous when the furniture started disappearing, and seems to be in a state of pre-trauma now that the boxes are piling up.  She hides under the bed when the tape dispenser starts screeching.

Moving sucks.  I want to hide under the bed too.  There is always so much more stuff than I anticipate.  I've already made 2 additional trips to the hardware store for boxes and it looks like I'll have to make yet another before the movers show up on Tuesday.  I really thought when I bought this place, that I'd have it indefinitely, maybe rent it out and make some money off of it once I got married or moved away.  I always knew Los Angeles wasn't my forever place, but I didn't think I'd be cutting tail 6 years in.  27 year old me was so naive.  33 year old me knows that life is unpredictable, much like the modern housing market.

I'm excited about the new landing spot, though.  It's a beautiful place I picked out on a map and, when I visited, found an immediate connection with it.  I'll be living three blocks from the sea in the Pacific Northwest in a little town called Seaside, population 6,500.  It couldn't be more different from LA, population gazillion, where community is a word you have to look up in the dictionary.

It occurred to me today, that I don't actually know how to be a member of a real community.  In fact, this morning I heard the new baby crying from the condo next door and realized I'd never even thought to bring them a casserole or offer any kind of help like a neighbor in a real community would do.  I wished the zombies congratulations when I saw them in the elevator a week ago, but aren't neighbors supposed to support one another and be the village it takes to help raise each other's kids?  Maybe if I had my own kids I'd have been more tuned in, but as it stands, I'm just another reason Los Angeles lacks a sense of community.

It will be interesting being a big city girl gone "new community member" in a small town.  During my most recent visit to find an apartment, I got back to the inn where I was staying and told Don, the old property manager,

"Don!  I found a place!"

"I heard!" he shouted back.

Wha...?  He heard?  I had put down the deposit two hours ago.  Maybe at 33 I'm still a bit naive.