This is a picture of my apartment on Sunday. Debbie looked around and said, “Don’t you think you should start packing? You’re moving in a few weeks and you have a lot of stuff.”
Yes. Well. I’m scared of my dog. Last time I packed and moved, he went insane and drove me insane. He’s been on anti-anxiety drugs and anti-depressants ever since the last move, but I don’t want to trigger a relapse by packing.
But still, Debbie has a point. I do have to pack.
She picked up a few boxes for me at the liquor store. And a friend brought me some more. And my neighbour out back tossed a few dozen excellent boxes over the fence for me – she scrounged them from another neighbour’s garbage. Another friend left a message on my machine yesterday giving me coordinates for the motherlode of boxes (but he forgot I don’t have a car).
On Sunday night I packed the first box. See?
Now I’ve got 20 boxes and 2 bags packed. My apartment is full of packed and unpacked boxes, and my dog is starting to look distressed.
I think I’m starting to look distressed too. I don’t want to move. And since I have to move, I wish it was over already. I’m pissed off at myself for feeling bad about something I want to feel good about. I went to a lot of expense and trouble to create this change in my life and I want to be excited about it. Instead I’m feeling homesick for the apartment and neighbourhood I’m leaving, and fearful that I’ve made a colossal mistake.
I know I’m being a big weanie. Finslippy moved from Brooklyn to New Jersey in the springtime, and I think she still regrets it. (I realize moving from Chinatown to Carlington isn’t quite the same, but I’m using Finslippy for purely illustrative purposes here.)
My dogs get anxious too, but the vet had recommended Anxiety drops, a homeopathic remedy. I have to keep them handy for storms and camping, because my younger one becomes completely disconnected from reality. And to my astonishment, they seem to work. Almost instantly. Amazing!
Good luck with the pack n move. Label every box with its destination room, very clearly.
Gillian, where do you get the Anxiety drops? Sam had a rough night last night – around 12:30 am he started pacing and panting and staring at the walls like he was hallucinating. Poor old guy.
It’s by HomeoPet and I got it from my vet. It’s about $20.00. If one vet doesn’t have it, another will. And give the dog enough; it’s awkward because they say give 10 drops, but it’s hard to count with an uncooperative dog. I just put my finger in her cheek and pulse the bottle down my finger (or thumb) for a count of five, or 10. The first night I gave it to her twice. The next night, I gave it to her before bed and I think it worked. Good luck.
(Like I said before, you have my e-mail from the blog records and can e-mail me directly if you want.)
We used to have a mannequin’s arm. Nik found it in the trash one day when we lived downtown. It was our nieces’ favourite toy. “Can I play with your arm?” they’d ask.
Tobique got a hold of it eventually and chewed off all the fingers.