There’s the cutest little skink lving under a layer of bricks right outside the door to where I will be moving. I’ll bet she’s laid her eggs under there and soon we’ll be surrounded by a hoard of little skinks. Better skinks than skunks.
as you go through the nooks and crannies in her apartment, you realize why she never seems to have plastic storage baggies for leftovers and little paper cups in the bathroom. it’s because she takes the plastic baggies, rolls them up, puts a rubber band around them, and sticks the batches in various drawers and boxes. in those boxes, tucked into corners of closets, also are larger storage baggies full of little paper cups. and more lids to jars long discarded. because, you know, you never know…
I am considering having a nervous breakdown so that I can spend a couple of weeks somewhere in heavenly solitary confinement. And then, after someone else winds up clearing out our apartments and moving all of our stuff, I’ll have a miraculous recovery.
“Crone, Interrupted,” my daughter quips when I tell her my fantasy.
The moving van comes for all of our furniture and boxes on Monday. I know there will be a lot of small things left as yet unpacked that I will have to deal with.
I will make it through this. I will make it through this. I will make it through this.
Two carloads of stuff went down to the new place with me and my friend yesterday. When we were all done, we went into the nearby town and had a very late lunch. I had brie and blueberries on grilled sourdough bread. And blueberry lemonade.
Such diversions will help me make it through this.