I smell lightly of bleach.
I've been cleaning house, packing boxes, sorting through the random junk of my life. Dad called last night and said he was going to rent a cargo van for me, so I can still keep some of my furniture, despite the move cross-state. I'm glad, as a dresser is a good thing to have.
I took a personal day from work to do all this, but I still needed to go in and check some proofs around lunch time. I made it a double-duty trip and brought along Max, the cat that I found in a Wal-Mart parking lot, but can't keep. One of my co-workers has decided to adopt him, so I wanted to introduce them. She fed him chicken scraps from her salad. He liked that!
The things I'm not packing right away are my mock-ups for notecards, or the magazines that are my inspiration. I need to keep them all on my dining room table as a visual reminder why I'm doing this . . . why I'm literally packing up my life and moving on into the next one, barely six months after arriving at this point in my life. It all seems so crazy, so foolhardy, but I know it is the right thing for me to do.
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