Tuesday. Tuesday I spent hours at the veterinarian's office trying to sort out with the staff (not the actual vet) about the Aphis 7001 form I needed filled out for the Rotten One. I mean, folks, this is one document that any dog who flies anywhere in cargo in the United States or abroad needs to have. Every vet's office in the U.S. is supposed to have this form. They did (finally) find the form, but the staff seriously could use some training and I was at the end of my rope with their inability to competently find/fill out this form.
After I left the vet's office I had to race home to shower and change for a going away party. In the middle of that party I took off to head over to a cocktail-hour for a non-profit I have worked with and love. An hour later I came back to the going away party and sang karaoke until 10 pm. I headed home and finished up my last paper for my docotoral coursework and sent that in to my professor around midnight.
Wednesday. I woke up at 4 in the morning, completely unable to sleep further. At 5 I went downstairs and made coffee and watched an episode of 'The Closer' (my new favorite show) -- I was out the door by 8 am for doctors' appointments. By 11 am I was at the USDA office to drop off the Rotten One's paperwork and at noon I was at City Hall for an open meeting to discuss cuts to social services sector that directly impact (and by impact meaning we have to close the doors) a non-profit on whose board I have served for the last 5 years. I hadn't eaten yet so finally at 2:30 pm I grabbed lunch with a fellow board member and then I went home and began to pull everything that I wanted to send in the airfreight container because the movers were going to be there at 8 am. I finally crawled into bed at midnight.
Thursday. I awakened at 5:45 am and finished up everything for the airfreight movers. They arrived at 8 and began packing while I filled out the insurance form. At one point, one of the movers asked for two forms of photo identification so I gave him my driver's license and passport. The mover said "I have no idea why people have passports, people tell me I should get one but I tell them, Why would I want to go anywhere? That's absurd".
I think it was at that point when my eyes started to glaze over and the shock set in. Like, why was I allowing two strange men to put my things in boxes and walk out of my house with them to ship them to another country? And why were they using such big boxes for dishes? Dishes should be in small boxes. And why were they having a 'guess how much this box weighs' contest with my stuff? And would it arrive unharmed? or at all? And why was I even doing this again?
The movers left and I wandered around the house feeling lost and confused and depressed. I tried to go outside and work in the garden but came in 5 minutes later. I tried to drink some tea but it just sat there, steeping. I tried to go to the movies but I couldn't leave the house. I started to feel numb.
I texted a friend and she told me that I was in shock and I needed to cry. I wasn't entirely sure how to make myself cry so she suggested music and a glass of wine. Turns out David Gray's 'Babylon' is an excellent catalyst for tears (especially since it mentions London and cryin' out loud). So I cried for awhile and felt better -- at least enough so that I could start straightening up from the tornado I created while pulling everything for the movers.
So, it's Saturday and I'm finally feeling almost back to normal. And I promise my blog will return to happy/funny/lighthearted content when I'm feeling happy, funny, and lighthearted again. In the meantime, I just need to process the transition, thanks for hanging in there with me.