If I were a better person, I'd have gotten a lot less writing done this week, but I've managed to do quite a bit. I despise moving. It makes me sick just thinking about it. I'm not sure why. A lot of things that used to make me crazy don't anymore now that my insomnia's treated (my son is sleeping through the night, he beat me by 29 1/2 years!) Moving still makes me want to curl up in a corner and whimper though. Most people don't enjoy it, and maybe that's all it is with me.
Trevor has been wonderful, packing and hauling box after box. I've been handling more of the administrative issues, like getting phone and utilities shut off and having mail forwarded. The most interesting project is getting new, British credit cards. We want to keep our credit relationships, but one of our credit cards gives us cash back in the form of a coupon to a US store. Not much good to us in the UK.
I'm also monitoring our bank accounts making sure we've got enough money to close on the house on Friday. We do (it's all about putting away a little every single month); our savings will take a substantial hit, but so it goes. I'm happy that we were frugal enough to be able to survive our house losing 20% of its value. This is the way the market is, no point crying over it, though other people seem to get anxious on our behalf. Not only are we okay, with money left in the bank after this, we'll get a chance to supercharge our savings over the next few months while we live with my parents, who generously offered to give us a place to stay. This is much less of a hassle than dealing with getting a short term rental.
No, my stress is all over the moving process. I'm sitting here, watching our son, and doing all of the laundry. And writing. I've been writing a lot. Trevor assures me that he appreciates what I'm doing - since one of us needs to be here watching our child. I try not to feel guilty because I have the better job. Trevor's got this wild idea that I'm a wonderful spouse for moving 6,000 miles for his education. I guess some wives wouldn't, but I wouldn't miss this for anything. I know that if we didn't go, we'd always regret it and wonder what could have been.
And I'm also working on following Cory Doctorow's advice that I learn to write anywhere. That, he said, was one key skill he had to acquire before his career could take off. He's got an interesting story about writing in an airport under the drinking fountain (or was it a table?) because that was the only place he could find an outlet.
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