I didn’t sleep much last night. Nerves, and a couple of other factors, kept me awake until about 3:30. And then I got up at 7 and promptly left The Burrow, in search of the other half of the roofs here that have housed me. Which led directly into a long lunch with a new friend, which led into an hour’s meeting with at this point, an old and dear friend, which led directly to me getting home and starting to organize what was to be tetris-ed into Louise.
S. and I pulled that off in maybe an hour? It was not as bad as I feared: one of us watching a pile of stuff while the other hovers on the street, wildly shoving things into the back until some impatient driver honks because we’re blocking the way (because there’s rarely parking in front of the building), and then I drive around the block and start over again.
I guess it depends on your definition of “bad,” though, because we were able to park — it was just down the block and around the corner so we shlepped everything down slushy sidewalks and across at least one thick patch of packed snow and ice.
I NYCed down to my very last moment in NYC.
On some level, this feels anticlimactic — a big dramatic breath and flourish of “and now I’m GONE. FOREVER,” when in reality I’ll be back for a wedding Labor Day weekend. But I won’t be “back,” I’ll just be “here.” Does that make sense?
There are still too many cubic feet to completely fit into my car and at this point I’m a shrug and a care away. We’ll make it work. It usually always does.