As I go along with my mundane life, every now and then it hits me: We have to move.
Not only that, we have to move in the next couple of weeks.
I hate moving. It is one of the few things that can reach deep inside my psyche and yank out tortuous feelings of anxiety. I am not sure why, I have moved so many times. It should be quite routine by now, but it is not.
I alternate from trying to organize and throw away things to avoiding the whole issue and procrastinating. I am not sure how it is all going to get done. We have too much stuff: too many books, too many papers, too many clothes, too much food, too many little souvenirs, too many dog toys, and so on. There are so many little details to tend to as well. And yes, we have to do the things we are supposed to be doing as well. Sara has a course to take (an intense three week summer thing) and I need to plan my classes for the fall and submit proposals for those I want to teach in the spring.
Yes, boys and girls, get ready for some pretty heavy duty complaining over the next couple of weeks. So I imagine there will be little traffic through here ... I don't blame you. You should enjoy your summer.