The fact that I was packing my clothes in preparation for our departure from the house this evening (we’re moving to the in-laws) at approximately 11:43pm should probably have been a clue. Add to it the fact that when I woke up I had to unpack in my efforts in entirety and start again to reassess what was in my suitcase and you probably have a fair view of where my head was at.
Especially given that I’d had a conversation with my future boss in Canada in the morning and he’d said, “Come over for a couple of weeks and then come back and get your family.” It was tempting … get away from all the stress here and go see the world a little. But the reality was that it wouldn’t have been fair on anyone else and right now wouldn’t be a good time to go getting all selfish. So I’m not doing it.
Mind you, I don’t think that we’d ever be ready. Recovery from Spit and Swallow had gone well in most areas of the house, though the toy room had suffered from their being ‘more kids that anyone could have seen outside a child care centre’ as one friend noted on Saturday night.
The movers arrived on time to get a tour from Caroline, which must have just sent chills down their spine as they realised just what state we were in. I said to one of the guys, “you must hate people like us,” and he kind of laughed a bit like he was thinking, but unable to say, “Yes, you are correct. People like you in this inadequately prepared state do indeed shit me.”
I rushed out to take the kids to school and then came to work … 3 hours late. There’s something about knowing that your life is being packed up and not being there to see it that I find just a little nerve-racking.
It will be even weirder to go home at the end of the day to a home that isn’t mine, knowing that the whole adventure looms larger and larger every day.
25 more sleeps …
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