Ep. 10: To have more, you’ve got to have less

My Don Draper days are long over.

Monday, March 25, 2013

It looks like Peekskill is a party town now. 

Greeting us at the station at the entrance of the stairwell was a fresh pool of puke this morning.

It was likely left behind by some Sunday night reveler who overindulged at one of the popular local establishments—Peekskill Brewery, The Quiet Man Public House, Birdsall House or perhaps Gleasons.

On my second marriage, new house and four-almost-five kids in tow, my own Don Draper days are long over. No more pulling out clean pressed shirts out of a drawer after a night of debauchery, reckless endangerment and waking up in some intimate stranger’s apartment.

Instead, now I’m just a regular guy trying to get to work on time and trying to get more sleep while I'm at it.

For the third day in a row I've woken up thinking, "I really should go to bed earlier."

Considering that it has been three weeks and weekends of moving now, I'm still not fully recovered and continue to be exhausted.

"The move" has taken that long because we decided to furnish Dominguez Manor, our 12-room Victorian, with all new furnishings. Well, not exactly "new"—'cause we ain't the Rockefellers you know.

95 percent of our furnishings have come from Craig's List, a lot of it extremely heavy solid wood antique furniture, half of it in desperate need of refinishing and repair.

Many of our basement-bargains were literally from people's basements or their storage units or had to be removed from up a flight of stairs—all of which I had to carry from seller to rented truck to our house and up one or two narrow flights of stairs, half of the time by myself.

Our trove includes sofas for the parlor and living room, a dining room set, china cabinet, six bedroom sets, a crib, changing table, four book cases, a giant armoire, three cabinets, breakfast server, and a baby grand. Ugh.

Admittedly, I didn't have to move the piano, but I did have to my hand in the hefting of the rest. Weathered by Hurricane Sandy, we got it for "free" —just the exorbitant cost of disassembling, delivery and reassembly.

In addition to the exhaustion of the move, I'm losing sleep because with the new commute I lost the extra hour I once had to sleep in.

Now, I have get up at either 6 or 6:30 to catch the commuter train, which only comes every half hour.  Whereas when I was taking a subway that arrived every five minutes, I could just casually roll out of bed any time after seven, seven-thirty, sometimes eight or so, and still make it to work “on time.”

I guess it simply goes to remind me that less is indeed more; because if you want more you've got accept that you're giving up something in return— more house, means less time, less sleep and a little less serenity. 

 

No more pulling out clean pressed shirts out of a drawer 

after a night of debauchery, reckless endangerment and 

waking up in some intimate stranger’s apartment.