all the difference

we had to push aside boxes of media to clear a place to sit in his new efficiency. unorganized, it was as if someone had tried to cram three years of possessions into a space 1/4th the size, which was, in fact, exactly how things went down. i spent thursday and friday night moving boxes, holding doors, and vacuuming for someone else's move.

we had a moment late into the evening--sweaty, tired, hopeful for a light at the end of the tunnel--where he looked at me and said: "honestly, i didn't think we would survive this move."

honestly, neither did i. and i'm not so sure we have.

*

In the school of indecision, there are several schools: Robert Frost and his damned roads (you have to pick a road, and you don't get to come back); and then there's the Sondheim Cinderella method:

Then from out of the blue,
And without any guide,
You know what your decision is,
Which is not to decide.
You'll leave him a clue:
For example, a shoe...

which is different from the Sondheim Sunday in the Park with George method:

I chose, and my world was shaken--so what?
The choice may have been mistaken
but choosing was not.
You have to move on.

Ironically, I can't decide which I think is the best method.