snapshot of a woman in transition

At the moment, I'm blogging from a bedroom empty of everything except random odds and ends (a pink hat, a Calvin and Hobbes book, a shoebox full of "important papers," a trash can, an empty coffee mug, a penguin squeezy toy, a frame with no photos, an ethernet cord attached to nothing, a mini-vac, two coat hangers, a notebook, a red halloween wig, a duck cookie cutter, some texas postcards, a CD marked "error").

I'm waiting for the Air Express man to pick up my new(ish) laptop for the SECOND time, after Dell returned it and it still wasn't fixed. While I'm waiting, I'm on hold with the Dell man trying to change my address, and I miss a call from (I discover later) ANOTHER Dell man wanting to know why I haven't sent in the laptop yet. Isn't technology grand?

This weekend has been a busy routine of pack, load, unload, repeat. Yesterday I reached the point where everything except the above-mentioned items had been moved, and it was time to start setting up. My wonderful friends had done their share and had errands of their own to take care of. So I approached my new bedroom, crammed full of boxes and random furniture, took a long look... and started to cry. Yes, I did. After all the hustle and bustle, the idea of sitting still long enough to sort through it all pushed me over the edge. I cried for five minutes, put on some loud music, pulled myself together, and got on with the task at hand.

Inertia is a powerful force, no?