May Day

This is the first day of the last month. It is also the last day of the staging of our house, the tarting-up into "generic hip" that was to have helped sell it. The tray of blue martinis in the back room (non-alcoholic, to be sure) is a dead giveaway on the hipness. Won't miss those. What we will be left with after the removal will be:

1. three beds
2. 3 sofas
3. a desk, a chair, a lamp, this computer (thank goodness), a printer, a fax
4. some kitchen things
5. a dining table and chairs (but not for long because we're selling them--check for the flyer)
6. oh, and some clothes and oddments of towels and sheets

This is perilously close to camping. Only the indoor plumbing and modern electricals lie between me and That Existence. I cling to my duvet for reassurance.

The dogs, too, will welcome the departure of the staging. They will now be able to rocket around on bare floors, hardly a stick in their way, their shrieks echoing, damn loudly, all over the house. We won't have to keep them away from the blue martinis, either. The poor things have been bewildered long enough with their very non-regular last few months. All in all, though, they have been troupers and serve as examples of pluckiness that we humans ought to follow.

Margarita is back tonight from a whirlwind 36-hour trip to Santa Fe. She has lots of lovely photos of the house, so I now remember how much I like it. And since we only ever saw it with a foot of snow on the ground, the revelation of a wonderful rambling 1/3-acre yard is even more uplifting. I feel quite lucky and know I should rise above the crabbiness about the staging since it will soon be Of the Past. So, you see, the title of this entry is not a call for help but a celebration of the coming of Spring & Newness (with a nod to the IWW and Rainbow Grocery).