Moving seems to be a natural part of my existence. I’ve moved a lot in my life. Very few places have I stayed for more than a
year at a time. In fact, in the last 5
years of my life, I’ve moved 8 times. I don’t have a whole lot of stuff-
particularly stuff that’s hard to move.
I can’t afford to be a hoarder when I have to move everything I own once
a year or more.
Most of the time, my moves are voluntary. This time, the universe opened the gates of
hell from underneath me and spit me out from where I stood.
“From beneath you, it devours.” That’s the scripture to describe The
Hellmouth. You know, from Buffy.
This thing:
That’s what we nicknamed the problems happening to our house
about two weeks ago. The Hellmouth was
coming to devour our souls and happiness, and it damn near succeeded.
Apparently, the pipe under the house coming from the water
heater had burst, and water was gushing into the crawl space underneath the
house. Unfortunately, the base of the
house floor is made of particle board which when wet, swells up like a sponge
and is a breeding ground for mold.
Of course we didn’t know any of this at the time. All we knew was the entrance to the crawl
space all of the sudden popped up because the entire thing was full of
water. That’s when the plumber came
over, drained the crawl space, and another person came to fix the pipe 3 days
later (after the weekend).
During that weekend, we had no hot water, but it didn’t
really matter. Donna Noble was away at
an academic festival, and Rose Tyler and I, along with two other awesome women
went to San Antonio to see Rocky Horror Show with Sharon Needles. Not 36 hours after our absence, we came back
to a home with full blown Hellmouth revenge, mostly in my room. And now you can see why we called it the
Hellmouth:
This was the first thing we saw: a 4 inch speedbump in the
hallway raising the wall, blocking the closet door from fully opening, and a
crack down the center which we quickly duct-taped.
Next, I dropped my bag in my room, only to find a series of
speedbumps and openings to stinky mold, which after a few days made me
physically ill.
And so, after becoming physically ill, and getting into a
spat with the landlord about it, I went back to my nieces bedroom with hot pink
walls and the gracious reminder that Girls Rock. I was happy to see the absence of the
familiar Justin Bieber poster, with which I remember many arguments with in my
first stay. Sorry Biebs, I’m sure I said
“fuck you” to you more times than you probably deserved.
Liminality strikes again!
I was suddenly faced with questions like, “where will you
live,” and “are you okay signing a full year lease from now,” and “what the
hell is the universe trying to tell me right now?”
See, I don’t know if I believe in God, gods, goddesses, what
have you. (Maybe I just believe in The
Doctor.) Religiously, I’m really
confusing. I do think though, that
whatever you want to call it, God, goddess, divine intervention, the universe,
or simply life; it sometimes tries to nudge you. You ignore it long enough and it will flat
out scream at you like a Molly Weasley Howler.
A part of me thought it was throwing me out of Texas, until
I realized The Hellmouth wasn’t just pushing me out of the house, but Donna and
Rose too. That wasn’t the answer.
And finally- there it was.
I had to be the loudest, or else we would never leave the toxic
house. What used to just be
metaphorically toxic, was now physically toxic.
Thanks universe. I get it now.
When we first moved in, we planned to have a séance of
sorts- to get the bad juju out of the house.
We were calling it a “diva night.”
We’d have sage to burn, wine to drink, dishes to break, and prayers and
wishes to recite.
We never did it.
It got pushed to the back-burner, and we continued to live
in the house where Rose Tyler lived with her ex-husband, where Donna Noble’s
furniture barely fit, and where we all spent most of our time on the back porch
because it was really the only part of the house we truly enjoyed. I still partially blame that for the
Hellmouth eruption.
Now we have a new home, with bright sunny colored walls,
vaulted ceilings, a sun-porch/greenhouse, and a hot tub. The space is open, welcoming, leak-free,
mouse-free, Hellmouth-free, bad memory-free, and already pre-blessed by the
previous tenant who we guess was Wiccan.
I talked to my mom on the phone yesterday, and she said “you
sound like you have a brighter disposition on life now.” Maybe it’s the fact that the walls are
yellow. Maybe it’s the space. Maybe the last tenant’s blessings are
working. Maybe it’s as simple as getting the mold fog out of my brain. Whatever it is, we are quickly moving out of
905 Liminality Street, and it’s bound to be a sunnier side (Sunnydale Side?) of
the street.
