We will have been in our new place one week tomorrow. In this past week, Georges and I have accomplished an incredible amount, especially Georges whose "to do list" had all the things requiring loud drills and hammering. I can't believe how much he accomplished, but we were both motivated by knowing the Little Guy would be coming to our new home this weekend and we wanted to make his space as comfortable as possible (while still leaving his cartons of books and games unpacked, so he can arrange his own things the way he likes).
He arrived this afternoon and although he'd been here once when the apartment was empty, he made the complete tour again, ending up with a big smile on his face while seeing his new bed and congratulating himself on his excellent choice in new bedding (he really did choose something very nice and grown-up, too - no more cartoon characters for us!) We found all his favorite extra pillows and soft blankets so he will feel cozy and at home on his first night sleeping in the new space, despite the fact there are still cartons everywhere. He seems very pleased already with our new home, cartons or no cartons.
He is still on spring break all this week; Georges will have to work at least a few days during this week but he's planning to take a day or two off to spend with his son; and I'll be balancing my time between continuing to try to unpack and organize what I can, and keeping my step-son entertained so he's not sitting in front of the computer all day, every day (that's no way to spend a school break!) The week after next ought to feel a lot more "normal" and I'm looking forward to getting out to meet some friends for lunch and to start writing again, FINALLY (believe me, I am more frustrated than anyone at not having this book finished yet so I can resume my search for an agent and publisher).
It's funny when you move, and you arrive in your new home, what priorities you put on locating certain items in all those boxes. I think it is an interesting exercise in knowing what matters most to you. For me, after making sure everyone had access to clean socks and underwear and a few clean changes of clothes, and being able to take showers and brush our teeth, my priorities were getting the kitchen in good working order so we could all eat; finding the most important items for the bathroom including first aid kit and basic medications; locating certain important papers we need to close out the old apartment tomorrow; being able to manage guest bookings for the Montmartre apartment (new guests checking in tomorrow); and finally being able to unpack the vast majority of my own books onto a bookshelf Georges set up. Secondarily, I'm finding more of my own clothing and trying to make room for it (still have another suitcase plus several boxes of shoes and handbags) but now I'm more motivated by wanting to get rid of as many boxes as possible, as quickly as possible, than by "needing" anything else that might be IN those boxes. I think in the next few days we'll unpack a lot of boxes of books and toys, and that will take care of at least 60% of what's left. Some will have to go into storage; there simply isn't room here for everything.
When I first came over to France, I brought two big suitcases and two carry-ons, and also shipped four cartons of personal items, at least two of which were filled with books I really wanted to have with me. Since then, I've brought back a few more books with me on each subsequent trip to New Jersey, but I've also acquired new books (and that doesn't even count the ebooks I now have on my iPhone) along the way. So my books alone took up one entire bookshelf from top to bottom.
I said to Georges: "It's clear how I identify myself, as a writer and a reader: by my books. I sold or gave away nearly everything else I owned when I moved to France... but my books are part of how I see myself, part of my identity".
He gets it. He may not be a writer but he is a prolific reader, as is his son (you've gotta love a kid who gets excited whenever you propose buying him some new books). And judging by the huge library Georges had in his former house (there are already about 60 cartons of books from THAT library packed in our storage unit, and I suspect we might be adding a few more in the near future), this is a man who also attaches part of his identity to his books. He finds it difficult to let them go, even when he has no space to keep them.
Consequently, although he has put in place all the major bookshelves in the place we had assigned for books, he's already thinking of where we can squeeze in a few more. But reader/writer though I am, I don't want every square centimeter of wall space covered with "stuff" - even when that "stuff" is books. We're in a pretty small space as it is, and I'm trying to keep it as zen and clutter-free as possible. So, we'll have to look for where to compromise.
I'm looking forward to a time about a week or two from now when most of this is behind us. I'm happy with the progress we've made but I'll be happier still when I can stop unpacking things.
Oh, yeah... and when Georges can put away his drill. That drill-on-stone noise sets my teeth on edge!
