Woke up this morning at the crack of dawn and went to work, not stopping to think that it was Martin Luther King Day, and I didn't have work. I don't mind at all, and no one knows of my folly except for us.

Home from work at 9:00 a.m., what a feeling! And I spent all day moving into my new room.

I haven't unpacked yet, but that's not the point, nor is the fact that I moved out of my old place on December 31.


I am happy because today is C.'s wedding, which means she is officially moved out, and the three of us in the flat can now rearrange the whole place and get the new dynamics moving.

So I moved into my room, (it's smallish but big on personal space); Delli and Tania moved into the larger room which they will share. Being the strongest of us three, and how sad is that I was the one who moved beds and dressers and shelves, I am the one who heaved and grunted while they toted clothing around (not bad) or tried to help by grabbing the other end of things (worse).

Showering later, primping for the wedding, I take stock of my body. Big red welt in middle of my back, from standing up under the shelves I forgot jutted out from the wall. Large colorful bruises all over my legs from when I used them to brace the weight or maneuver something better. Little dots in the bend of my arm where some capillaries burst from exertion.

I'm tired, but it's a good sort of tired.