Pieces of life …

I’ve begun to pack away bits of life

Crystal pretties – ducks and bunnies

Voodoo dolls

Shells with memories

Artwork saturated with sweetness

A pink memory book that holds one finished page

but is littered with notes, receipts and sparkly pieces,

that still wait to be fastened.

Wanting to belong.

Yet somehow knowing they never will.

A dried flower falls softly to the ground – undone from its hidden place..

Books with earmarked pages

all gently wrapped  and placed in green bubbles and brown cardboard.

One soul defined –

and

heart remembered –

stored

but

not forgotten.

It finally hit …

It’s official, exhaustion is mine.

It seems like the past five months have lasted a year.

There has been heartache, surgery and an all around effort to help others (constantly).

It hit me (out of the blue) how much I have to do in the next month.  And, I suddenly feel somewhat overwhelmed and apprehensive (even though it’s all going to bring me to a lovely place).

I have kept myself so busy all these months that I literally haven’t had the time to think (it’s a great tool and much undervalued in life).

I’ve also spent very little time at home in the past three months(great for my energy bill bad for relaxation).  So, when I arrive there on Wednesday, I have allotted myself approximately two days to do nothing.

This nothingness should include – doing nothing – sleeping – reading – catching up on recorded shows on my DVR – one on one puppy time and sleeping (did I mention that already?).   After the two days expire I will begin the real work.  Packing my entire home, reducing my belongings, finding movers and finding storage.

Here’s a little known fact:

I don’t do well under this kind of pressure (Truth be told I am a girl who requires a bit of supervision at times).

The good thing is that I am aware of my shortcomings.

The bad thing is there is nothing I can do to make it better (lists you say? I lose them. Trust me).

I’ve already begun dreaming about losing my little dog, only to find her later bubble wrapped and packed in a box marked valuables. No. Really.

What’s a girl to do?

Does anyone have a magic wand or a sprinkling of pixie dust?

Rant over.

Carry on.