So I’ve managed to survive all of the bullet points on my insane itinerary of June and July travel, and am happily ensconced once again in my very own home, madly catching up on work items that I promised people months ago and as yet have failed to deliver.
I’m also doing a little running around town, taking care of the myriad items that either have been let slide for a while now (get the oil changed! make that followup vet appointment!) or that come due each year in August (get the car smogged! get the registration and insurance renewed!). All that stuff has to be done now, as I’ve got 2.5 weeks and counting before I need to get myself and some subset of my stuff to New York for the year.
And that’s leaving aside the process of culling that subset of my stuff that goes to New York from that subset that needs to be packed up and stored here in Claremont and that subset that can remain right where it is for the folks who will be renting my condo from me. (True confessions: the first time I wrote that sentence, I wrote “rending.” This move does not come without some ambivalence, apparently.)
So I’ve settled myself on a program of mornings in front of the computer and afternoons running errands/taking care of life stuff. We’re on day 2; so far, it’s working okay.
But the bottom line remains that I haven’t had one blessed moment for the kind of leisurely summer thinking-and-blogging that I was hoping I’d have long since settled into by now. Little wonder that most of what I’ve got to say has headed out through the Twitter stream; after 140 characters, I start thinking “should I really be doing this right now? Look at that list!”
Oh, but once I get to New York… I’m having fantasies about the time I’ll have for reading, and writing, and thinking.
Here’s hoping it’s not just fantasies.