The Big Week.
I’m writing this with only one eye open.
The other eye itches so incredibly that I want to gouge it out with my fingernails and then shove ice cubes in my eye sockets.
Have mercy on my soul, this is insane. It’s either from some seasonal allergen currently trying to kill me or from the (estimated) large amounts of mold growing in my damp walls.
Regardless, I may be permanently blinded. My right eye is nearly swollen shut and the multitudes of allergy medications and even the eye drops I tried are not helping.
This has been coming and going for a few weeks, the dastardly itchiness.
I hate allergies!! Itchy eyes and itching nose can be intense. Man.
Tomorrow is Monday. This is the start of our Big Week.
The week where I finish packing every tiny material possession in this huge house all by myself. The week where I drive up to Columbus on Thursday with Henry and spend the night so that we can go to the office to close on our house first thing Friday morning.
The week where the moving trucks come on Saturday and we actually move to a new city in a new state where we know not a single person, to a place where I’ve only been twice in my life–and both times were just to drive around and look at houses.
The week where, for the first time in our entire lives, we move hours away from our parents and siblings.
I feel like I should be utterly terrified and filled with nerves because this is The Big Week.
But…I’m not nervous at all. I don’t know if it’s a sense of peace that I have, or if I just became so overwhelmed at one point that I gave up and stuffed all emotion into a tiny box to deal with at a later and more convenient date.
It’s almost like a disassociation from reality.
Is this actually happening??!
It seems too surreal.
Or maybe I feel at peace because this is the right thing to do, because it’s the correct move to make in our lives.
The jury is still out, I suppose. Time will tell.
I do know that I have zero expectations. I’m not building this up to be the most amazing thing ever–it could be, or it could suck, and as is the general pattern for my life everything could go flabbergastingly wrong.
But, it is what it is. I’ve discovered that I really have little control over anything that happens in my life lately. I might as well just go with it and ride the waves.
I don’t think it can be worse than having no heat or running water at the cabin. Or worse than having no kitchen for a hundred days and workers coming in and out of your house with their own keys whenever they feel like it.
The only thing worse I can think of on that train of events is homelessness, but I don’t think that’s possible considering the fact that we’re buying a house and we have homeowner’s insurance. (I feel like I am tempting fate by writing that. Knock on wood. KNOCK ON ALL THE WOOD. *KNOCK ON AN ENTIRE FOREST OF WOOD!*)
That’s looking on the bright side, eh?
Someone I look to for advice told me yesterday that we’ve been through hell and we’ve paid our dues. It’s time for something good to happen to us.
I hope that’s true.