Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Anxiety Attack

I am moving. With YG and MG. We're looking for a place in my neighborhood, but bigger and with a yard and/or deck where MG-aged people can play. This should be relatively easy. It should be quick. It should be FUN.

But I am wracked with anxiety. We've looked at a number of places, and none have been perfect for various reasons. I was ready to sell my firstborn for an apartment we looked at on Sat. in the perfect location, but a not-so-perfect pricetag and no room for expansion. Then last night, we found another almost perfect one with a OMG-I-could-save-so-much-$ pricetag and perfect yard in the perfect neighborhood, but two closets and a teeny tiny master bedroom that would fit YG's big bed and not much else. In short, I would need to get rid of most of my big things and A LOT of my clothes and shoes. I already signficantly pared that stuff down when I moved up here last year and some of it has sentimental value (my grandparents' furniture) so...ack.

Of course, I know what this is all about because I read self-help books and take yoga and am all self-aware. It's about security blankets. It's about MY stuff and ME and protecting ME. If I get rid of all my stuff and it doesn't work out, I end up with nothing again. And what if it doesn't work out again? I'm moving in...with a boy. The last time I did this, I got married, and as you know, my track record for unsuccessful marriages and bitter, painful divorces is stellar. Do I need a china cabinet? Am I the type of person who even uses china? I eat hot pockets and take out. Do I need 6 pairs of black boots and twelve pairs of Classic Fit straight-legged black pants? Probably not. But this stuff is mine, and I'm possessive and weird and obviously FREAKING THE FUCK OUT.

And I have two months to find a place so all of this is premature and we will find a place, and I won't be relegated to the only two other obvious options for me if I don't find a place to live:
1. selling crack on the streets
2. living on my parents' couch back in the NJ suburbs, watching WPIX reruns and wearing velour sweatsuits