Appalachia Year

Every sort of Event in my family can be expected to be a giant ordeal, so while I was grateful for my family's help (and their cars) moving my earthly possessions today, I was sort of bracing myself for a verbal bloodbath. Or, at the very least, having to navigate the minefield of exasperated sighs of contempt and careless finger-pointing for obstacles beyond anyone's control. Maybe Nick's presence as an Outsider forced everyone to be on their best behavior, prevented everyone from letting the heat, and the stairs, but mostly the heat, bring out the worst. As Nick and I drove back to Columbus, I felt relief slowly seep into me like cold water. How could it have been so easy? I'd been holding my breath all day for nothing.

I stayed in my crappy apartment, the Leaden Cave, for three years. My apartment became a character in my life, a silent villain, my excuse for floundering. I had cryptic reasons for staying but I know I was just resigning myself to another year of quiet misery to avoid that one week of Moving Hassle. I'd like to think that I'm not as eager to disappoint myself as I was before.