While I have used this GIF before, it’s even more appropriate now, given the context.
I have two days left, and I’ve spent the last two recovering from a move I haven’t made yet. My final day at work was on Friday, where I was presented with a sweet card and many goodbyes. (Interesting how the chatter skewed, many quite positive and encouraging, while others voiced nervous concerns about the distance.) After work, my writing group and extended friends threw a going away party for me and yes, there were ugly cries.
I love these guys, I write because of these guys. I will miss them so much, though the Internet will help with that with Google hangouts, Twitter and the like. It’s not like it was when my soon-to-be roommate left town seventeen years ago. It was like he was dropping off the face of the earth and I treasured the missives we sent back and forth, however irregularly. It’s a different world now. I felt very loved Friday night. Thank you, guys. Thank you.
In the meantime, I still have the last packing to do while Thanksgiving scurries under me like a cat wanting attention. I think I’m closer to done than I feel, that a few more hours of work and I will lift my head up and find that all that’s left is to kill the hours until the movers come and then until my flight. I have terrible task today, one I am more anxious about than anything — drugging the cat. They’ve given me a kitty prescription for Xanax and today is the trail run. This is to make sure the half dose is appropriate to her weight and tolerance. My gut is in knots over it, though I know I have to test her now before the day of the actual flight. (Never minding how they figure I will get to give her a second pill should she need it, as the pair of us will be in the Toronto airport or worse, high above Manitoba and no way to administer such a pill. Perhaps I can offer the Xanax to my neighboring passengers. I kid. Mostly.)
Today it’s the final blitz through my clothing, what I keep and what I give away. Then the office gets stripped bare now that I’ve gotten rid of the last of the office supplies (refers you, dear reader, back to the weeping GIF above) so all that will be left will be bare shelves. My memento box with the odd bits and things that I must take. Boxing up the few things I am taking from my kitchen, including kitsch mugs, my professional knives, my coffee press and teapot. Pictures taken of the remaining furniture that I’m not bringing that can hopefully be sold.
I’ve got coffee brewing, and hope it will see me through.
As to writing, I have been. Not a lot, and yesterday I broke my streak 26-day streak as all I was able to manage with the slight hangover was running around to pick up and drop off moving related things. And not on any of the editing projects. I’ve managed to hit 10,000 words on a new novel (what, a vacation novel? moving novel? sanity novel?) that I’ve been playing with but needs to be worked on the back end, plotting-wise, before I can progress. (I also figured out that my output was slowing down because I wasn’t listening, and so day-dreaming, to the novel’s playlist. Working on correcting that. Perhaps on the plane rides?) I will be without internet for five days after I arrive, making access my files directly, uh, difficult. I’ll have my laptop, but the iMac arrives up to two weeks later. (Moar cries.) I don’t want to write October off entirely, but I’m trying to be realistic. Also, two rejections, one personal, one form, on two different stories. I’ve hit a personal record of submissions in one year, a small benchmark but one I hope to better and soon. I have three stories out, and another that needs to be sent out but I think I’ll pull it for another review.
I look forward most to when my life coalesces out of cardboard and plastic and air mattresses into the new normal — whatever it might look like.
I’ll likely be quite spammy with pictures, but on my Tumblr blog.
Time to get back to packing. Don’t ask me if there is any Grand Marnier in my morning coffee. I don’t want to lie to you.