Why my posts keep disappearing is a mystery.  I don’t do well with written instructions and will just have to muddle through this by trial and error.   Sorry to those more technologically oriented.

I realize as I write this that this is yet another effort to put off packing up my life and moving on, joining the diversions of Scrabble, Facebook, going through old photos and wandering rather aimlessly through the house to tackle something that I think I can actually finish.  I guess I have to comfort myself with the fact that I really do function best under pressure, and my drop dead date of October 5 is fast approaching.  Where did all this junk come from and why is it so difficult to part with it?  Everything brings up a memory, and my fear is that if I dispose of the “thing”, that the memory will die also.  That would probably be a good thing in a lot of instances. 

Things will move faster when my son returns tomorrow and he starts to move what I’ve packed into storage, at least that’s what I’m hoping for.  As it is I’m dodging boxes, piles of books and bags of shredded paper.  Tomorrow I really must deliver some of the books that friends are waiting for, make a last-minute trip to the doctor and get more garbage bags.  And wine.  Lots of wine.