Underground Moving
(Page 7 of 7)
January/February 1972
By Catherine Lesley
CALLING IT QUITS:
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Big money, big headaches. By June that was the story of our lives. Our time was worth $8 an hour and the money fever had such a grip on us that we refused to waste a precious hour just breathing or sitting in the sun. We were working nine to midnight, seven days a week! Our bank account was huge but we had become walking zombies . . . or rather, moving zombies. We were exhausted and out of tune with ourselves and each other. It was time to quit.
On June 24th we pulled our telephone out of the wall, carried our belongings down the five flights of our tenement walk-up and packed them into Old Brown Bus. Then, without looking back, we drove our last job . . . moving our own home to rural Maryland. When we unpacked, the New York cockroaches ran out of the furniture, took a deep breath of country air and sighed.
Sometimes we wake early in the morning and rush out of the house to work. Then we take a look at the mountains and the river running near our yard and we sit back down again. No more moving ever!
The money we earned last year will carry us through another 12 months of just being. Old Brown Bus rests placidly by the garden. Dried apples and green beans hang from her roof . . . and next spring, maybe, we'll take her tired engine out and use her for a goat shed.
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