Jean Marie Bauhaus

Y’know, I really had no clue just how worn out this whole moving thing would make me. I took a sick day yesterday to allow myself some recovery time, but then spent most of the day doing housework and putting things away, so that didn’t work out so well. But at least we now have a computer (a desktop; I couldn’t convince Husband that we should go ahead and get separate laptops and a wireless home network. I figured, as long as we’re already being spendy and burying ourselves deeper in debt, but then he figured, if we can get spendy on laptops then he ought to be able to get spendy on a thousand dollar guitar he’s been coveting, and I was all, “But I need the laptop for my writing!” and then he was all, “Well, I need a better guitar for my music! And a better amp, while we’re at it” and then it was down to an argument over who’s hobby was more likely to become a career someday, and so: Desktop.), and it is sleek and shiny and powerful and looks very small on the big honkin’ computer desk. Monday, Cox is coming to install the internet, and then all of my writing plans will be good to go. Except, I can’t get YWriter to work on it. It’s supposed to be Vista-compatible, so I don’t know what that’s all about.

Anyway, we’re moved. All of our appliances have been delivered and installed and we love having an actual kitchen and living in town and being so close to everything, and we’re very, very tired, but life is good. And Tuesday was our second anniversary, too. The house–and all of the spendy things we’re filling it with–is our anniversary present to each other, and possibly will be for the next five years.

Speaking of anniversaries, there’s this one, today. Everybody has their stories to tell about this day, everybody has their memories of how they were affected when it all went down. For me, there’s the memory of horror and disbelief, and sadness for all that was lost that day; but on a more personal, more selfish level, I’m remembering the long-distance friendships that were so close that day, so strong as we all went through it together, online, waiting for our friends in NYC to join us in chat or just check in and let us know they were okay. Those friendships never seemed more real–those friends never more appreciated–than on that day. That those friendships–or at least, my part in them–are no more is what’s gnawing at my gut today. But the friendships that have since grown in their place are no less meaningful, and I’m no less grateful to have them. Today is a day to remember what we lost; but it’s also a day to be grateful for what we still have, and for what we’ve gained since that terrible, awful day.