Yesterday was a domestic maze of vacuuming, straightening up shelves, and books in boxes, and DVDs in that one plastic blue storage bin I have. Everything had to be finished by 4:30, which was when our realtor was to arrive to take pictures to post in our "for sale" listing. He came at 4:41, took all the pictures, gave his impression on the current market in our area, and exclaimed over features he hadn't noticed before, which may help sell our place faster, including a door at the back of the garage that opens outside. Most units have doors that open into either the laundry room or the kitchen, but we also have one that opens into the master bedroom. Plus, two sensor lights in the patio, not just one.
There's still much to do. Mom wants to move the birds to the window in the middle of the dining room area, on top of that white cart, and move the table the birds' cage is sitting on next to our wooden, multi-shelf wall unit so we can put water and candy there for prospective buyers when they walk around. Plus, a cleaning service still has to come in to really vacuum deeply, scrub the tubs and the toilets, and get everything fully sparkling again.
So this is it. It's finally happening. And I'm sitting here, fully at peace, because I know that we'll finally have a city to call home, definitely by the end of the month. I'm not worried about the tasks still to come, about the packing, about loading the boxes onto the truck of whatever moving company we use, hoping it all gets there intact, unlike when we moved from Pembroke Pines, Florida to Valencia nine years ago, and half of our stuff was missing, and the other half looked like shit. Bad enough that I knew basically nothing about the Santa Clarita Valley right then, but we had to deal with this too.
It's much easier this time because we're moving to where we know we belong. Plus, instead of driving across the country in five days, it'll just take four hours and crossing one state line. California into Nevada, leaving California behind for good. Save for Buena Park and Baker, both of which I want to use in a novel and a play, respectively, I never want to know anything about California ever again. I understand that myriad residents of Southern California go to Las Vegas for the weekend, and that's fine. As long as they turn around and go back, I'll have no trouble with them. Fortunately, it's somewhat difficult to pick them out since the crowd on the Strip is so varied and so interesting. Las Vegas is for everyone, and I'm proud to soon be part of that.
I'm not worried about any of the tasks ahead. They'll all be done, we'll move into our new home (details to come, but not right away since we're still in the final stages, and it won't be ready to move into until the end of the month, which is exactly when we intend to move from here), and I'll begin exploring every inch of the Las Vegas Valley like never before. We'll get our new drivers' licenses, new library cards, I'll happily do whatever I must in pursuit of my new job, and life will be as great as it was for us back in 1992, the last time I think we were truly happy, when we lived in Casselberry, Florida, had annual passes to Walt Disney World, and our neighborhood in the Deer Run development was home. 20 years is a long time to go without the feeling of home, so it's no wonder I'm going to immediately eat up as much as I can right away. The excitement of a tourist inside a resident, but living more reasonably, since a resident cannot live like a tourist. We still have to keep regular hours, and get up early in the morning and go to work like anyone else who does the same around the world. The casinos being open around the clock, bless those who can work those late-night shifts and those well into the night. I couldn't.
It feels a little odd to be moving to where we finally belong. I'm not entirely used to that, just yet. It's brand-new to me. But I'm sure I'll adjust quickly once I see our new home in person and the full-on view of the Strip when you pull out of the development. This time, at least, the final time, I know exactly what it looks like and what to expect and all that I'll be able to enjoy there. A major improvement on knowing nearly nothing about our apartment in Valencia, thinking it would be one way, and it turning out to be completely different from what I thought it would be. This is accurate. I know the layout, I know our proximity to middle schools in the area, and how long it takes to get to the Strip, to the nearby Whitney library branch, and to my beloved Pinball Hall of Fame. I am truly going to be home. And I am at peace for good.
