If You See Me

Three years ago around this time I left Los Angeles. Whenever I complain about Memphis I have to answer to “Well if LA was so GREAT why did you leave!!?”  I never have an answer for that and I always mean to keep my complaints to myself but that never works out because complaining to yourself leads to depression. SO I slipped again the other night, heard the typical annoyed response but this time I answered, “Because I like to move.”

The night before I moved, my little sister flew out to LA to help me pack up. I had spent the month before selling most of my stuff on Craigslist and was planning only on taking a few things in the move, but I still had a bunch of stuff I had to deal with. So I had a garage sale (at J & B’s house thankyouverymuch) and later my sister helped me pack up what was left to go to the goodwill. We ran out of time and ended up leaving a stack of crap, calling a St Vincet DuPaul truck or something, and leaving the keys behind to set off on a cross-country road trip.

Sure I knew I had made the right choice to sell all of my stuff and not put furniture in storage like some people suggested, but the road trip was haunted by the memory of things I did not mean to leave in the give-away pile. Like, I did not mean to leave behind my vintage crewel tropical sea kit that I spent the lonely Christmas of ‘06 making. But this is now either in a landfill, hanging on someone’s wall, or collecting dust in a Angelview Thrift:

Other things I left behind (and thought about at various points as we retraced route 66) included: Vintage quilt, allergen-proof pillowcase covers, a sack of pens stolen from hotels and restaurants and people, a vacuum cleaner, books, industrial shelves, pots, pans, buckets of paint, handmade sawhorses, and several small framed dried flower thingies.