Cottonwood, me, and the coming move…

I am spending this holiday weekend “sick like dog”; I blame cottonwood pollen (though it is likely grass or some other item, since cottonwood fluff in May and June is well after the actual pollen release for them), or perhaps the odd manner in which stress, suddenly relieved, seems to bring on a bout of sickness. Whichever, I’m speaking like someone who doesn’t have a nose, my throat feels like it’s studded with glass shards, and I’m unable to get comfortable regardless what I try. Bleh.

On the other hand, preparations for the coming move are going along quite nicely, I traded out of the Altima for a Juke on Saturday (!!) and, as a result, have lowered my monthly expenses roughly $300.00, making the total reduction in monthly expenses post-move about $700.00 a month… nothing to sneeze at, I’m thinking.

Movers are scheduled, boxes are ready, tape on standby, and newspaper wrap to arrive by the coming Friday; utilities scheduled, mailing labels for accounts are done, and all that’s left is to change address with online accounts and drop the address change letters into the mail for the rest. I like being ahead of the curve.

Other than this, I’m taking it quite easy this holiday weekend; lounging and letting my body dictate what I do, keeping fluids and vitamin C and zinc up to knock this stuff back/out, and pondering if I should work from home tomorrow (just in case it isn’t allergies). Likely not, but we’ll see.

Not much more, really. It’s nice to have all this calm during a time that usually isn’t very calm at all (a move). “They” say a move is among the top five stressors in life, but frankly, I have never found that to be the case. Maybe because I’ve had more than my “fair share” of them, but I suspect mostly because I’m too damn organized and analytical to let any of it be “last minute”; and, of course, I’m not really attached to a physical location so it’s kind of difficult for me to imagine that a change of locale could/would be “stressful”. Add to this that moving into a house that’s “mine” tends to off-set pretty much all such considerations, for this moment, anyway.

ObHaiku:

My nose is a brick
Ugh, metaphor of mortar
Best not expounded

(Heh.)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *