A little advice: do NOT move out/in/out/in over a four week period, while working full time and grasping at some contorted semblance of reality.
This day did not border on insanity: it was insanity. Attempted at work to get the last lingering April orders out for UPS so we could clear the deck for the quickly piling-up May orders. This meant an afternoon of aerobic box-building, hefting, up and down stairs, and again, repeat. Paint, fire-on, cool, polish, box, box again, and once more. And at the end, there was some slow-down (computer? printer?) so only three cartons ended up with shipping labels. Sigh. There is always Monday.
Immediately after work, Melinda and I headed off to my play-house temporary apartment to pack all my temporary play-house stuff (I can't believe we filled two cars...where did all this come from??), the we cleaned the place from corner to corner, replaced the bed linens, carted off all the used sheets and towels to be washed and returned next week, then drove the kit-and-caboodle over to the B. Street house, unloaded, up stairs, and up more stairs. Melinda stopped at the store and picked up some deli goodies along with a cut-flower bouquet. Lovely!
R. and I heaved the bed components up from the basement, laughing ourselves silly trying to figure the angles around several tight stairway corners. (Much improvement over last night when I melted down and vented directly at him. ) I sent him off to the hardware store for a few nuts and bolts, and now I'm fully assembled, fully spent, fully ensconced back at the house I first moved into 24 years ago, a rental then, just weeks after fleeing a burning apartment with, well, R. in my arms.
(Always with the drama.)
Cat is back at the vet. Some really weird shit. Dithering over whether to do surgery, whether my checkbook can support such a procedure. Decided to give it until Monday.
Early this morning two of my sisters jetted off to another continent, to enjoy -- I imagine -- the amended version of the trip that I suggested, planned, dreamed about, and ultimately canceled. I would've appreciated a phone call from either, a fare-thee-well, etc., an acknowledgment. Maybe it's just all too much. But I carried a heavy sadness with me all day, weighted and on the edge of breaking down, and worked up a frenzy in the shipping department instead on almost no food and an intense caffeine-induced mania.
Maybe by Monday the fist inside my chest will have relaxed a bit, maybe the swim-and-twirl in my head will ease.
(I'm asking nicely.)
And remember to be kind, even when it's too fucking difficult.