10 days.

I know I should be blogging.

I’d intended to do three blog posts over my last three weeks – 21 days, 14 days, 7 days. 14 days has come and gone, however, and I couldn’t wrap my head around writing anything. I think there was going to be a list of things I’ll miss (everything), and things I’m going to (everything), and some talking about things I’m thinking about: everything. That list is not coming together, and I can’t seem to pull anything else together, either.

So there is no blogging. I know I’ll wish I’d kept a better record, but so be it. Sometimes collapsing in a puddle on the couch instead is the proper, grownup thing to do. Here are the highlights: I’m happy. I’m bone-weary and mind-weary in a way I’ve never been before. I’m experiencing a weird feeling of increasing disorientation. I’m almost counting the minutes until I’m sitting on the plane. I’m waiting by the phone for the moving company to call and tell me what time they’re coming tomorrow.

Ten days until this. Really, how much else do I need to say? I can’t wait.

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