How many sentences did I start and not finish, deleting the idea in search of a better one? It’s that kind of day. All work, no play, keep it moving. I’m at my limit. The endless decisions to keep or eliminate things in the moving process are on their final leg. And at this stage, my attachment to anything is nil. Bowls, plates, rugs, Tupperware—get them as far away from me as possible. I’m past done – I’m crisped.
A forklift takes the two U-Haul pods in three days and starts shipping them across the country. On that day, I will leprechaun kick my heels together with glee and float around in the air as light as a feather. For now, I have weights around my heels. Which, oddly enough, reminded me that Richard Simmons died today. Rest in peace, you overly energetically upbeat, curly-haired, tight spandex-wearing extravaganza, you.
The two so-called fainting goats showed up next door. I’m not convinced they’re fainters, but when they’re wound as tight as they are from a stressful move, I imagine their paralysis mechanism is broken. The neighbor’s choice to get goats appears to be spontaneous, as fencing materials and a brick of hay rode in the tailgate along with them. With a lean-to and a small fenced-in area being built as I type, I’m with Dave—I’m glad we’re moving. I feel sorry for the neighbors on the hillside just above the goats; their peaceful evenings will now be filled with goat cries.
When I asked Dave to eat out at restaurants before we left so we could pack our dishes he said yes, but I didn’t really believe him. But tonight’s Mama Stortini’s beet, goat cheese, walnut arugula salad, and mushroom ravioli, yesterday’s taco lunch at the taqueria place, and the day’s before Mongolian beef at the Chinese restaurant have me thinking he was for real.
You guys should hear my goat call. I’m getting a response every single time. Who knew I was a goat whisperer?
My dad uses duck calls when he hunts, and I remember practicing and learning the feeding and socialization calls.
Is it an incredible evening because of how hard I worked? If only this one mosquito wasn’t here.
With Evelyn’s trundle bed gone, I think about what remains. Our king-sized bed and nightstands, the patio table and chairs I sit at, and a recliner chair inside. Oh, and three bar stools that I need to sell. Other than that, it’s smooth sailing from here. Uncomfortable air mattress sleeping is in the cards in the coming days, but that’s how the ball bounces.
In the time it’s taken to write this, I’ve sold the barstools, and the person will be driving up from Olympia first thing in the morning. Where to sit, where to sit for cereal eating? Out to breakfast, we go!
We’re almost outta here, we got this.
Love,
Jaclynn
Going On 40 