Limbo

I feel like I'm running out of things to say.

This week is kind of like limbo.

Three more nights sleeping in my current apartment.  But most of the belongings that made it "home" are already gone.  The living room is now very nearly empty after the sale of my couch and loveseat the other night, and our voices echo as we stand near the door, talking in the mornings as we don layers of clothing for the morning commute.

The person I dreamt about who was sick yesterday, is still sick.

I think my friends have welcomed their baby to the world, though I have only the unofficial "facebook" confirmation of that.

Last night I chatted online for a while with a very dear friend.  Events in both of our lives mean that our formerly regular communications have been haphazard and spotty for the last several months.  Emails most days, but rarely the real-time conversations that we'd consistently shared online or by phone.  I don't think I'd realized how much I'd missed chatting with her about all of the stuff big and small, going on in both of our lives.  It was so good to talk with her that I very nearly cried.  And, we're planning to fit a phone conversation in, sometime in the near future.  That something to look forward to is a beautiful thing right now, in the midst of this odd week of limbo.

Tonight there is a bit more to pack.  And maybe a little bit of time catching up online with my favorite television shows.  I won't need to watch olympic coverage tonight.  It will be all about the hockey game.  I have a very strong dislike of hockey.  It's not the sort of dislike born of not understanding.  I was raised around hockey and have a fairly solid understanding of the game.  I simply don't like it.  (Though, to be fair, I tend to always prefer individual sports over team ones anyway.)

I read this blog post last night, just before sleeping.  I found her words to be profound, especially these: "In the midst of my pain and sadness in life, my sarcasm often brews. I usually don't mean what I say, but I say it because it feels good and the wit it takes to concoct something halfway funny and caustic distracts the part of my brain that feels pain. And because I'm sad, I usually don't feel guilty for biting satire."  Yes.  I am definitely that person too.


This morning I'm just grateful that our receptionist is back in the office.  I wasn't relishing the thought of another scattered day like yesterday.
 
And with that, I'm off to dive into a long list of "to do's".