parkinson's law, real estate version

things in a house grow to fill all possible space available.

the corollary is:

most house owners do not realize this until the day they attempt to move.

yes!

the packers are here. after the protracted agony of waiting-thinking-planning-thinking-waiting we finally begin some action. the nice thing is, a strange calm descends over HOM and me. the doing is over for now. we sit back and surf the net. anything more and we'd just be in their way. thank God for good weather. thank God for people who pack and move for us.

ommm

it's all very well to call yourself a headless chicken in a self-deprecatingly humorous way, but when your husband calls you a headless chicken i guess you gotta take a deep breath and let up some.

piano quartet no.2 in g minor - gabriel fauré

so i am uncultured with untrained ears. but tell me, how can stuff like this qualify as music?

i'm fed up with packing

one begins to have an appreciation as well as a grudging sympathy for those spouses who adamantly refuse to relocate when their partners are transferred to another place. it's not always just self interest or children's interests or familial interests. sometimes it's simply a matter of preserving one's sanity.

aaargh

i am slowly going mad trying to decide what goes in the sea shipment the air shipment the luggage and the friends' homes. the house resembles an abandoned minefield with pockets of battle still ongoing. the garage is freezing but nevertheless houses much to be organized. the garage door opener is not working.

please can i get to next week already?

brrr

as a result of enthusiastic de-cluttering in preparation for our move to the tropics it looks like my wardrobe capability ends woefully at late fall. the weather outlook casts a gloom upon my chilblains these days that only a swiftly imminent departure can ameliorate. it's that or a shopping trip.

thanks to God

we sit with an old friend at a farewell party. his eyes are shadowed. we are not likely to meet again like this. it is difficult to say goodbye, he begins. yes, we say. thank God our paths crossed for this short while. we are the richer for it.

thanks for times now but a mem'ry - for tears by now forgotten - thanks for pain and thanks for pleasure  - for joy, and for sorrow. thanks for hope in my tomorrow.

starting over

having run out of allotted photo upload space here we are therefore in a new spot in cyberspace.

if you think about it, art imitates life.