How many returns can one claim? I ponder this question as I slowly bring myself back into civilization. I quite literally feel as if I’ve been living in some sort of dark cave, slowly peeking out in the brightly lit world wondering what the hell all of this stuff is about?
Packing and moving makes one re-evaluate and take stock of what’s truly important and what we can lay to the wayside. Not that it’s been all that easy to let go. Tons of boxes filled with crap have still managed to follow me through to our final destination and I sit here with boxes and boxes of crap without much else. The Hubby and I must build it all again as most of our ‘big ticket items’, as one of the voices put it, were tossed at the end of 2009 to make us as compact as possible for a trip cross the pond . Of course that never materialized and so we’re left picking up the pieces and wondering why furniture is so difficult to find and so damn expensive.
I’m rambling. Rusty in focusing my thoughts. I wonder if I’ll ever have, make, find or stumble across the time I need to get everything right. As it stands, my life feels like one hastily put together affair with duct tape spilling at the seams.
Pardon my appearance while I try to work it all out.