After spending the better part of the last week driving cross-country, my family and I got into LA last night. My brother and I arrived first, followed by my parents an hour or so later. It gave me and Nate just enough time to get the keys to my apartment, figure out how to work the parking gate clicker and unload my car. I tried to sneak in a quick phone call to Joe, my boyfriend back in Chicago, to tell him I’d arrived. My parents arrived while I was on the phone, so I had to cut it short. Then we began unloading again.
Out of the van, up the stairs, down the narrow hallway, around to the other side of the building, over and over. After 10 hours in the car, I welcomed the heavy lifting... almost. I walked with my Dad down to the local grocery store, a block away from my apartment. We got a six-pack of Corona and, when we got back, sliced the lime and popped the beers, toasting the end of a long journey. It was good to take a breather before we started unpacking.
One thing I’ve noticed about moving into old apartment buildings is that there is always some cleaning to be done before you move in. My apartment looked clean but the a/c was caked with dust, which we discovered as soon as we tried to turn in on (cough cough!). So we didn’t get much unpacking done.
We were all exhausted and after trying to bake a pizza and discovering that the oven didn’t work, we decided to turn in early. I slept on a twin-sized air mattress. It’s like sleeping on a water balloon. If I’m not in the exact center, I’m in danger of being plopped on the floor. Every time my cat, Bella jumped up to join me, we would ride the waves of air. As I lay there trying not to move, I looked around at my empty, dimly lit room. I thought of my full size bed that I left at home, my loveseat, my TV, my desk, my table. I thought of my boyfriend and my friends, the band, driving around familiar streets. I was so comfortable in Chicago. For a brief minute as I’m alone in the dark, I ask myself whether I made the right decision to move west.
I woke up the next morning, having finally figured out the sleep-in-the-middle-of-the-air-mattress method. (I know that at one point I woke up and was sure I was upside down). My parents were awake, my brother groggily surfaced shortly after I did. We made breakfast and discovered that the fridge that I paid to have put in before I arrived didn’t work either. Not. At. All. It didn’t refrigerate or freeze anything. It merely keeps them cool. Ish.
*sigh*
Maybe if we cranked up all the dials? No.
By mid-afternoon, after a morning of cleaning (the closets and drawers are all dusty, which I discovered when I put away my black pants) and sorting (who packed this stuff?) and unpacking, all of our food was merely “not warm”. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. My Dad said he noticed a fridge at Salvation Army a block away for $75. I paid $80 for mine. Salvation Army tests those things before they put them out on the floor... right?
The highlight of the day was when I found these adorable pink and green salon chairs with skirts that will fit very nicely around my apartment’s island, which I intend to use as a desk, a dining room table, as well as a food prep area. My Mom and I wheeled the chairs down the street from the Salvation Army store back to my apartment, sitting in them jauntily at crosswalks. The neighbors loved it and we got lots of cheerful comments. My new neighborhood seems very friendly.
After my family left for their hotel, I first realize how exhausted I am. I try to lay down to take a nap but start to feel a lot of emotions. I get up, brew a cup of coffee and go to work unpacking the miscellaneous odds and ends that just got shoved into boxes at the last minute, when I was beyond being organized. As I work, I’m sure I’m either going to cry or be sick. Instead I just move like a zombie, trying to focus on my task. When I finish unpacking, I just stand there, looking around, asking myself, “Now what?” I feel lost. I feel shell-shocked.
I finally call Joe. I’ve been saving this phone call as a special treat, a reward for myself. This is the moment. And now I cry. Just a little. I ask him, “Now what? I know there are a million things I should be doing, a million things I need to do but I can’t see where to start. I feel overwhelmed and lost and a lot of other things.”
Joe listens to me and comfortingly tells me to make a list. It’s a small thing that makes me feel so much calmer. Just having a place to begin will be good.
After a wonderful conversation, we get off the phone. I make dinner. Then I make a list. And then, I start doing one of the things on the list. “Catch up on Actors Access Submissions”. Okay, I can do that.
I can do this.
