Stuff, and too much of it
This past month has been approximately 50% horrible, 50% okay and 25% confusing. Some of the problems I had anticipated are actually worse than I thought they would be, most likely exacerbated by my poor expectations and the hypertense state that accompanies them. Other issues, like coming to terms with things like I'm kind of living with children, are equal parts pleasure and pain. For every morning I'm woken up at an ungodly hour there are moments that sort of make up for it. Like our recent back-to-school preparations:
mohawking the children
Slowly this place is starting to feel like mine, and this town? I feel like I am hovering above it, circling in a landing pattern with every intention to touch wheel to ground, but I'm not quite there yet. The change of address form was submitted yesterday, so that's one step in the right direction. Almost everything is unpacked and there is a gigantic why have I been lugging this around for so long purge in progress. But still, I'm in seclusion mode, trying to get a grip on the immediate world around me. Things are better today and reconnecting with family has been helpful, but I've missed two important birthdays and professionally I'm at a stand-still. Soon I will face the email, return the calls, resume the base-line level of self-flagellation and all will be back to normal.
Also: I've got stuff. A lot of stuff that I've truly missed, a lot of stuff I've forgotten I had, and a lot of stuff that can just go. If anyone is interested in giant IKEA bags full of purses, shoes, professional clothes, or kitchen paraphenalia, let me know. There's nothing like a mild depression to make you not care about things you own. Out it goes.
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