So I’m sitting here drinking an iced coffee due to sudden summer heat, immobilized by the impending shitstorm of messy work ahead of me. My trusty, silent Chinese moving men (who will be moving my belongings for the third time) will arrive at 1:00 to move our stuff six blocks southwest into my fourth home in five years. I really, really hope this will be the last one for a while, and I think it may be. Our new landlord seems, thus far, to be a remote yet efficient and honest machine; the new place is freshly renovated and shiny all over; and the rent is very, very low. We’re staying in the same general area, which makes me happy; I like our quiet, leafy streets and handful of friendly little businesses that give our neighborhood a small-town feel.

But ugh, the boxes and figuring out where everything goes and how to get the cats moved without losing them and coming back and cleaning this crappy old apartment that we’ve grown to loathe and buying the big and small things we need for the new place (window treatments, living-room rug, shower curtain, and on and on). It all seems overwhelming, but I know myself enough to realize that once I get started I’ll get it all done much faster than I think I will. And luckily I’m participating in a group stoop sale week after next to raise money for my Team in Training goal (give if you can!!), where I can unload a bunch of odds and ends that I don’t want cluttering up my new home. I just have to get through the next 12 hours or so without throwing a tantrum, and then all will be well.