One expectation for therapists is that they’re put together, have things figured out, and are ordered. I denounce that. For someone who falls apart daily, and enjoys doing so, I will always rage against the machine that tries to tell me otherwise.
I’m impressed with U-Haul. For $4,000, they’ll drop off two pods in our driveway and give us a week and a half to load, which I appreciate! Then they’ll ship them across the country in thirteen days (if more, they pay us $50/day) and then deliver and give us another week and a half to unpack. None of my worst nightmares of hurriedly packing and unpacking will come true after all.
Amongst kayakers and sailboats, our float plane landed safely on Lake Union. We could have taken the direct flight from Friday Harbor to Lake Washington, but Dave just “had to see.” I didn’t have to see. The chaos of water traffic was begging for an accident, and then the pilot’s overconfidence in banking hard on the second flight sent willies throughout my body and had Dave almost out of his seat—had it not been for his belt.
But man, oh man, what an incredible weekend! I could have done without being welcomed home by trash strewn on parking lots, sidewalks, and along the curbs. Seeing it hurt my heart and made me mad. Friday Harbor was clean and cared for, with flower boxes and storefronts kept. It felt good to be a part of a place where people cared for and respected the land.
I wish littering had a mandatory sentence of working yearlong for a community garden, hoeing, planting, and tending to plants.
When picking Evelyn up from her grandparents, Paula broke down when she told me she was struggling with our move. Maybe I’ll get her a life-size cardboard cutout of Evelyn or a life-size squeezable doll that says, “I’m not four, I’m four and a half!” every time you squeeze it.
I’m not ready for work. Getting a taste of sleeping in, watching TV, and bumming around town is a great gateway drug to wanting more.
Uh oh, I’m daydreaming. There is one waterfront condo with a deck overlooking the Friday Harbor marina and a cute bungalow pad I plan to purchase for my 56-year-old self. Here’s the math: Evelyn turns 18 in 13-14 years and will leave the house. The summers in Georgia are hot! Too hot. And I’ll need a cute, beachy, artsy, active community to escape to. The downside is HOA fees and moving stuff onto the island, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take!
Going On 40 