The TV is off and although I dug my Ipod out of my purse, I haven't yet plugged it in. It's nice to hear the clock ticking. An hour ago Better Half packed up his truck and headed for the east coast with his new roomie. He left behind one and a half packs of cigarettes; since he won't be home for about a month, we should both be past the worst of the withdrawl by the time we see each other again. He's in good hands though. He and Roomie are BFFs (maybe not "forever," but for twenty-odd years) and he's going to be reacquainting himself with old colleagues and getting a huge pay increase. The next few months are going to be rough on both of us, but worth it. Our budget will be tighter than we had hoped, but looser than it might be.
I can actually see the floor in his "nest," and the room is suddenly bigger than I remembered, but by the end of the weekend I predict it's going to feel mighty empty in here. And Miss Lizzie-kitty is going to become my constant companion. She's lost her best bud (and she will punish him somethin' awful when he comes home.) I'm fighting a sinus infection so my fibro has me weak; I'm going to get some extra sleep this weekend, but my main chore will be to develop a battle plan for this house. (Before I pack, I'm going to organize and inventory everything we own, outside of the Black Hole of Tooldom.)
But dang, I'm gonna miss that man, he's my rock. I'm glad I have a lot of thinking and planning to do to keep myself busy, because my emotional plate is full and I just hate it when my feelings weigh me down. Better Half is gone, Lance Criminal is going overseas soon, Oliver-kitty will probably have to be euthanized sometime in the next few months, I'm about to quit smoking, my first "moving chore" is going to be wading through 23 years worth of files and making decisions on what to keep and what to burn (I'm not going to burn out the new shredder...) and I'm sick. I'm having a little pity party, and I need some tea and sympathy (or maybe a stiff drink) but for now I think I'll settle for a hot bath and a nap. Then I 'll crank some tunes and do something productive. It's going to be a long 3-day weekend...
I'll party with you! Poor, poor pitiful us. Every time I move something disappears. Once it was a diamond necklace. I didn't even let the movers handle my good jewelry. It was all in a laundry basket that we brought with us to the next house in our car. Fool that I am, I left the laundry basket sitting in the middle of the master bedroom with movers going in and out of the house. What a surprise! A piece of jewelry got up and walked out. So please don't lose a diamond necklace.
ReplyDeleteLove,
Janie Junebug
Oh man, what a lot of shit to deal with!
ReplyDeleteI stopped smoking in October of 1992. It. Was. So. Hard.
But I am glad every day that I did.
As for moving? I'd rather go through labor.
I HATE moving.
Ami, I moved 15 times during the 30 years I was married. Is that the same as suffering even more than if I'd had 15 kids? What a frightening thought.
ReplyDeleteLove,
Janie
You know, we did this 18 years ago when we moved from Chicago to Hooterville, and I had a two-year-old! My parents helped me - they came up from New Mexico, one at a time, to help get the house ready to sell. Oddly, the thing that makes me want to cry is that they're both too old and frail to even pretend to help. I don't even need their help! It just makes me sad. Ya think maybe I'm channeling all my emotions onto something irrelevant?
ReplyDeleteSending Hugs your way.
ReplyDeletePax