moving day; cocktail

today was moving day. we have been looking forward to our new apartment. bob, the beagle dad offered to help us move, which was so nice and so appreciated. he has a station wagon and i was hoping we could move in 2 carloads. i helped p move some of the big suitcases downstairs and i went to the new apt to get the key. then they came with a load and i moved things up. after the 3rd and final load in which the fish came over in his bowl on p’s lap, jj walked maynard over. p and i went back to do the last cleaning.

the landlord came to pick up the keys and do the final inspection. the only thing that was not approved was that the sheets were not ironed. p and i don’t care about having ironed sheets. my mother would always iron her sheets. she liked the feeling of them. i always felt that it was a waste of time. anyway, i really have a problem understanding the landlord’s french. i think he is just so mellow, that he mumbles. i thought our choice was either i come back to iron them, or i go find someone to iron them. for that choice, it was easier for me to come and iron them. but i have to tell you the symbolism of ironing in my life. my parents began having marital problems when my mother stopped being a good chinese wife. she had done all the housework and made all the meals. she ironed my father’s shirts and made him lunch every day to bring to work. when she started working and having some satisfaction and success as the head of a non-profit music school, he had problems with it. the last straw was when my mother stopped ironing his shirts and told him to iron them himself. for me, as a woman coming of age in the late 70’s and going to a women’s college, ironing represented the subjugation of women and especially my mother. p is very sweet to me about this. he not only irons his own shirts, but he irons mine. anyway, i was willing to spend my afternoon ironing, but luckily on our way out p explained to me that we could just pay 30 euros to have him find someone to do it. that was a much better choice for me.
p has been working a lot. pretty much 12 hour days every day. he is on contract and so is paid by the day. his project is making progress, but constantly behind schedule and needy. he took today off to move, but at noon his boss called to ask him to come in when he was done. she also asked him to come in tomorrow, saturday. he’s a bit disappointed to go in, but he’ll work 2 short days and get paid for full ones.
after unpacking a bit, i went to a school mom’s home for a cocktail party. she is an art critic and i enjoy chatting with her about art in my search to understand the art universe. though i am less concerned these days of the existence of “bs” art, because, i have decided that it exists to fill a need. one of my art self help books says that the more you make your own art, the less angry you get at seeing bad successful art. (i guess “bs art” could mean both “bull shit” as well as “bad successful” art). she likes very cerebral and conceptual art, performance art, symbolic art. she seems to be ok hanging out with me, even though my art is on the other side of the spectrum – fairly concrete art. anyway, it was a nice little cocktail, but i didn’t stay long because i wanted to get back and unpack. Print this post