“The busy-ness of a move keeps you from emoting.”
A friend I call “Big Sis” said this to me at our Farewell DC party. She’s Irish, so she knows from others’ emoting. Her statement is true. If I feel the terror of change creep up from my belly I just wash more bedspreads, pull books off a shelf to donate, look for an apartment, consolidate quinoa. Poof! Terror gone.
Many of you have asked for the details of the move. When? What then? How? I thought detailing them here might make them seem less terrifying. It’s a win-win, really.
Movers arrive Wednesday, and will complete the job on Thursday. We’ll drive to the Mitten, screeching up to our residential hotel sometime on Friday. The Swedelock (Blog nickname…whaddya think?) starts work on Monday morning. The worst part about that timeline is arriving one day late for burrito night at the hotel.
Then? More hunting for housing. Finding Declan daycare. My plan is to work remotely for my DC job until they’re able to hire and train my replacement.
Patrick’s second week of work consists of flying to Philly for three days. When he gets back, my parents arrive. Never fear! We’ve got a two-room suite.Which means the kid gets his own room, and Patrick & I get comfy on the pull-out couch. (No, we can not sleep in the same room as the child, but thanks in advance for your suggestion.)
Then? I fly to San Francisco for five days. That trip means weaning the kid, just to make sure my mood is really pungent.
All that before we’ve been in Grand Rapids for three weeks.
How? I’ve been sitting here for 8 minutes alternately cackling and sighing trying to come up with the next sentence.
This part isn’t the hard part. This is the part I’m good at. People should pay me to manage projects. Oh wait, they do. The hard part comes when the moving’s done. And then comes the emoting. Don’t forget, I’m also Irish.