I don’t know where these two weeks have gone. “Two weeks” you say. Well,maybe not two weeks but it’s felt that way.
I honestly have no idea where I got the energy and found the time to cram all that I have into this past week. Let me fill you in on my life…
Sunday: Rubbed eyeball. Brunch and the farmer’s markert with my friend. Napped due to irritated eyeball. Since I can’t extract said eyeball even though I’m in agony, off I go to Emerg. 4 hours later, home I go with the promise to see a doctor if it doesn’t get better.
Monday: Struggled through work. Migraine and sore, light sensitive eyes. Good thing I’m not moonlighting as a beauty pageant contestant because I wasn’t looking to pretty.
Tuesday: Time for the walk-in clinic. Still have the headache and was referred to an eye doctor to make sure there’s no physical damage. Great. Eye doctor appointment. Things are ok, just irritated and dry. Work.
Wednesday: Feeling better. Work. Pack.
Thursday: Eye doctor. Things are lookin’ good! Buy more totes to pack. Pack. Work.
Friday: Doctor’s check up. Work. Took the night off for “The Summer of Johnny”- al fresco movie night at the Halifax Seaport. Saw Ed Wood. Highly recommended!
Saturday: Work. Buy more totes. Reserve Uhaul. Find helper. Pack. Write.
You know what’s missing though? My writing. There is just no way I’m going to be in a position to achieve my goal this month. That makes me sad. However, I’m pretty proud of myself for having learned how to see what I have accomplished and to be okay with needing more time than expected. In the end, quality is more important than finishing something on schedule.
Most nights I’ve been lucky to make it to the shower by midnight or later. With my nifty new iPhone I’ve been cataloguing my sleep and I’m averaging 6 hours of sleep a night and the little graph that accompanies each night’s “rest” could have easily indicated I’ve shoved off this mortal coil. It just doesn’t work to be a night owl and a morning person.
I religiously cart around my trusty backpack full of my writing supplies and my Irish notebook with the delusional hope that I’ll work on one of the two but it never happens. When I do have a breather, it’s never for long. This, however, is soon to change. At the beginning of September I’m going a swim team and practices are 3 times a week at 6:30 am. That means I’ll be home by 8:30 am and with my earliest work day starting at 12:30 pm, that gives me hours for my writing. I’m hoping that with a new apartment I can restructure my life completely. New work schedule, new lifestyle, new exercise routine, improved writing schedule, it’s looking pretty amazing.
My room is almost completely packed up and I can’t wait to do a trial run to pack George up and see exactly how much of my life I can fit into a Jeep Cherokee. As I look at the piles of Rubbermaid containers I have, I can’t see how I’ll fit everything in but then I can’t help but smile. My entire life is packed into 6 totes and a few random boxes. I don’t even have kitchen chairs. It’ll be a single-girl-supper-over-the-kitchen-sink dining experience until next pay day. At least I have a kitchen table.
I just want to be in my new place, making my apartment a home. I have a whole list of house warming things I want to treat myself to but they can wait. I’m loving the feeling of being unencumbered by things. I have the rest of my life to resume collecting flotsam and jetsam life pushes to me. I love paring my possessions down to my core treasures. As with any bibliophile, the majority of my possessions are books. I just can’t give up my yellow-cover Nancy Drews and my Agatha Christies. Others will come and go but I will always have those.