I'm in my office on the fella's new laptop. In here is one chair to put in the back of the truck, two vacuum cleaners, a big table top pad of post its, a bag of deflated exercise balls (2), the dog, his water dish, a globe and a plastic sculpture of my body taken from a plaster cast a long long time ago.
The fella is sweeping but I'm not. I can do that tomorrow. I was freaking exhausted when we started this day but now I'm not. We'll leave shortly as soon as the guys are finished and we load up the rest of the truck and my car. Then we'll go to chaos in our new little temporary pad. The woman we're renting from has a feast waiting for us. Yay! Tomorrow we'll come again - let the chickens out and feed them and clean the house. It really won't be hard to clean I don't think as it is EMPTY. Any last minute boxes for the container we can put in ourselves tomorrow. OH MY.
This morning I thought that I couldn't do it. Like giving birth I was giving in to my "I don't want this thing in or out!" . Actually last night I realized something. I'm old. Really. I know I'm not ancient and Jane Fonda is way older (born on the same day though) but when I hit the wall it is done. I cannot muster one more bit of energy no matter how compelling the reason. That surprised me and disturbed me but hey! I have found that with my writing too. No matter how inspired when I'm exhausted I am exhausted ... nothing left in the tank.
Oh well, I guess I had to figure it out sometime.
By now ... see you in my new world.