Like a burst of cold air

I spent most of this evening getting things ready for the packers to come tomorrow. That means I tucked away the things I want to make sure they don’t pack, boxed up some appliances for which I have the original boxes and packing material, threw away scads of things from the pantry (three-year-old nori, anyone?), and disassembled our TV-stereo system. I’m worn out, dirty (the bottoms of my feet are black, I kid you not), a little freaked out about moving out of this place that’s been my home for so long…but I’m also a touch exhilarated.

To which I say, finally.

I need to get excited about this move. I have been so fixated on how much it’s sucking — Mr. D. is gone, the dog is gone, I’ll be living in a bare apartment for to weeks and a box of a studio for four — that I have not been paying attention to the adventure of it. And I’m not talking about getting excited for the payoff — the new job, the new city — I’m talking about the move itself. Changing things up can be invigorating! It can be really cool! And I think I’m finally seeing a glimpse of how this move might be really cool for me. I need that glimpse because, frankly, the sad is always pretty close to the surface and I need something to counter it.

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