We decided to go to Float, this place in Somerville where you close yourself inside a small floating tank with body-temperature water containing a thousand pounds of Epson salts (causing guaranteed flotation), and, in silence and complete darkness, float for an hour.

Why, you ask?

Curiosity, I guess.

You step into this tank of water and close the door.

I went into this with no expectations, other than looking forward to doing absolutely nothing for an hour in the midst of a very stressful week (my moving week!). People who float regularly talk about amazing meditative experiences, and while I wouldn’t say I went into this with cynicism, I definitely wasn’t expecting an amazing experience. I was prepared for the possibility that it might be relaxing, just as I was prepared for the possibility that it might be completely stupid.

Turns out I loved it.

While Kevin in his tank was apparently spinning around in circles and running a series of hilarious experiments (which he told me about later), I just lay there in the body-temperature water, trying to become accustomed to the very odd sensation of not being able to feel my own body – except for these two throbbing things at one end of the tank that I recognized as my poor aching feet (moving is so hard on the feet!). At one point, my inability to feel my body freaked me out a little bit, but I flexed my various muscles and became reacquainted with my own body and was able to relax. I didn’t think about my move while I was in there, not once. This wasn’t a choice; it simply never entered my mind, despite it being my entire life at the moment. I achieved an emotional clarity so quickly, and found myself thinking about deeper things, the important things I haven’t been able to access during the whirlwind of moving. I thought about these things with a level of clarity that I’ve previously only ever experienced while hypnotized. Most amazing, though, were the physical effects. I went into that tank with aching, burning hands, forearms, and feet. In the tank, suspended in water, it was like weightlessness, it was like sleeping on a cloud, all my muscles relaxed, and I came out of it with zero pain. Floating did not feel as good as a massage, but afterwards, I felt physically better than I feel after a massage.

To my great surprise, I may go again sometime when I’m in the midst of stress – especially if the stress has physical manifestations.

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So, I now live in a new home! I can without reservation recommend Anton’s Moving Company. Sergey, Taras and Dan were careful and tireless and fast, and made heroic efforts to get my couch into my new apartment. They went so far as to hoist it over the balcony and remove my door. Alas! It turned out to be a physical impossibility. My couch is mine no more! It’s okay, we were able to keep it in the family.

Yesterday, while purchasing a new, small, narrow couch online that will definitely fit through my door, I was amused to notice the little drop-down box where you indicate how many you want to put into your shopping cart. Do many people buy more than one of the same couch? Today, while looking for coat hooks at Pottery Barn, I chose one of their couches at random and investigated how many I could put into my shopping cart.

I wish I’d thought to check on the giftwrapping charge for 99 couches.

Afterwards, I closed my browser and wandered off to organize my new kitchen. Later in the day, Pottery Barn emailed to remind me that I still had items in my cart. Did I forget to purchase them? Yes, thank you Pottery Barn, I did forget to purchase 99 green Chesterfield Grand Sofas.

Thank you, dear readers, for reading my first blog post from my new home. Despite the chaos, I already love it here, and now I’m going to put some books on some shelves.