I slept on my living room floor last night. I am in the process of moving and my bed is gone, along with the rest of the furniture.

The dogs have been a little confused with the changes

In looking for their favorite couch yesterday, they circled the perimeter of the den then found a new sunny location below a window that satisfied them.

Later in the evening, Tucker the terrier, tried to find my bed. He’s insisted on sleeping at the foot of it, since joining me from a rescue group 6 years ago.

Tucker inquisitively marched up and down the hall with his favorite squeaky toy, looking for his usual place of rest.

But within a minute, he found me cocooned in a corner of the living room with an old bedspread and pillow.

He immediately nestled in by my feet and started to snore, as he always does. The other dogs did the same.

It gave me comfort to see how resilient dogs can be to change.

And so it seems, are we.

Moving: Lesson 6

“It will be fun eventually. Really!”

My sister emailed me those words last night.

I was enjoying a pity party of one while entering the final days of packing and pitching before my move.

I’d just broken a favorite French styled lamp my husband gave me years ago.

I’ve been downsizing to a smaller home, but I’ve come to realize that doesn’t mean the work is any less.

It seems I missed summer with job and home tasks, and was thinking I’ll miss fall with its brilliant orange and yellow colors as well.

But my sister kept cheering me on, acknowledging the stress and telling me how much I’ll enjoy decorating my new little place.

I sat on my rusting kitchen foot stool, a.k.a the last chair still in the house, munching on my daily move cuisine of yet another “gourmet” gas station sub.

With my back aching, and too tired to lift another box, I surrendered to my bed by 8:00.

After all, I knew by Saturday night that bed will be gone, and it’s the tile floor with a yoga mat as mattress for me.

But hey, today’s another day!

I’m up early.

Finding coffee in the house and a not too stale glazed donut, I’ve now got my fuel.

And it’s been predicted to be a beautiful autumn day.

I’ll be passing those last garbage bags like perfect ‘Hail Mary’s’ into the dumpster.

Did I mention just how much I love that dumpster?

Maybe even more than those awesome gourmet gas station subs.

And there’s absolutely no way I’m going to miss my fall orange and gold.

The first thing I’m doing after closing on my new place is buying the brightest orange pumpkin I can find for my sunny front step.

And I’m going to decorate it in a French bistro style I think.

Just the perfect match for my new little French kitchen.

Oh, it really will be fun.

Ooh la la!!!

Moving: Lesson 5

I learned this week that when you’re moving you look at life differently.

Take this morning, for example.

My 6:30 breakfast bowl of last night’s subgum chow mein was bliss with every bite.

Besides, my kitchen shelves were bare of bran flakes and bagels.

Well, actually bare of everything.

But flexibility is the key these days. And I’ve even taken a few cues from my chi-doxie Grandma Greta.

The poor four pounder lost her library desk (a.k.a. perch) Thursday in a preliminary sweep of broken furniture before our movers’ arrival next week.

Her day throne’s been located there where she’s been empowered to bark orders down at Tuck, the terrier, whenever she deems necessary.

Yet somehow 16 year old Grandma Greta adjusted, moving that throne with her tiny teeth over to a high chair she found even more regal.

I’ll also be taking up temporary quarters for a few days, but my throne will be a pink yoga mat with my purple sleeping bag.

After breakfast, Greta turned her attention to me and barked that I should get downstairs and work on cleaning out that basement.

Not my favorite activity on a perfect September day, knowing our leaves are beginning to show their full palette of colors.

I went to the basement anyway and kept on working, trying to find a little joy below ground.

But it just wasn’t there.

I did make some progress, but eventually grew weary.

Then Greta gave me a jolt, barking at a visitor who’d left a package on the doorstep.

Climbing upstairs I saw the box was from a blogger friend and fiber artist, Syl Strawbridge.

Inside I found a card that read in part, “Thanks for Your Positive Energy”!

Her supportive words gave me my spirit right back. Along with a smile.

Next, I pulled out a beautiful long scarf that she’d made.

The colors were from that full palette of autumn colors I was so missing today.

Still wearing my smile, I skipped back down the stairs to the dirty basement.

I opened the windows wide and felt the cool breeze.

I let the fresh autumn air dance in the room, while I did the same with my broom while I swept.

And for the first time in years, I found joy in that old basement.