Compartmentalizing has never been my thing...

This whole unexpected move thing has sent me into a tizzy. Random bills are piling up in various areas of my apartment and a few are stashed in my purse. The house feels like an obstacle course because even though I’ve probably packed less than a quarter of my things, the few boxes I do have are taking up all my extra floor space. The little area where I usually drop my keys, mail, and everything else of importance has been replaced with a dishpak, and I can’t seem to pick a new place to put it all – which is how I end up hunting for my keys every time I want to leave the house.

I’ve got a million things running through my mind – I still need to call movers, set up new utilities, ask the new landlord for last minute modifications to the apartment. The other day I absent-mindedly knocked over a glass of water…right onto the keyboard of my laptop. Because I’ve done this before and know that an electric current mixed with water will fry the motherboard, I quickly turned off the computer, flipped it over, and happily went about my evening, proud of myself for responding so quickly and efficiently. At 1:30 in the morning I realized that I’d forgotten something. In all of my swooshing movements, I failed to do one key thing – I didn’t unplug the computer from the A/C adapter. Frantically, I pushed the power button. Nothing. RIP, little laptop.

Normally, I think I would have flipped out, but instead, I just tossed the laptop into a corner, one more thing that would have to be dealt with after the move. There was no point in crying. I don’t have the money for a new laptop right now, and there’s nothing I can do about it, so I’ll just think about it tomorrow. No doubt I’ll just be thrilled if it turns out that I can retrieve some semblance of the hard drive.

What I hate the most about this is the stress. At work I think about all of things that need to be done at home. When I come home, I remember all the things that I didn’t do at work. And then there's the new guy. I feel like I should be spending time with him, but then get angry at myself after an evening together when I return home to a ransacked house and a yelping dog. I said to hell with everything this week, started smoking again, and picked up a Wine Cube at Target. Stress has the weird effect of making me super tired, combined with the inability to fall asleep at night because for some reason, the wee hours of the morning are when everything needing to be done in every aspect of my life comes rushing to my brain.

This morning I was running late, and got dressed while I was waiting for my rollers to heat up and my coffee to brew. I ran the dog outside and smartly, thinking ahead, put on a pair of flip-flops so that my heels wouldn’t sink into the grass and get muddy. I was literally inside my office building before I realized that I never took the flip-flops off.

Once the move has been made, I know that mentally I feel just fine. Everything will be complete. Sure, stuff will need to be unpacked, bills will be rolling in, and I’ll probably be running around like a chicken with my head cut off, but I think getting everything over to this new house will just make me *feel* more relaxed. And even though as each day gets marked off the calendar and the anxiety grows that I will never get everything done that needs to be done in the next two weeks, it can’t get here fast enough.