At night I lay in bed and think about being laid off. I think about the week or two before, when my bosses knew they'd be laying me off, and I think about how they interacted with me and how one boss was so unusually nice and chatty that I mentioned it to a friend. I know none of it matters, but my mind just goes in that direction and I go over and over it in my mind. It's like massaging a bruise or something; my mind is just drawn there.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
My Sunny Someday
Two weeks ago today I was getting my ass handed to me on a platter. I can't believe it's already been two weeks. I am up to my neck in details about the move, and I am getting over it. I am over it. I have lists and spreadsheets with check marks by each line. I've set times to disconnect my utilities here and connect them there. I've put everything in boxes or plastic tubs. I've lined up the tubs in the storage room so they'll be easy for the idiots to grab when they're loading the truck. I've argued with the auto shipment place. I've talked with my contact at the moving company 500 times - we're completely sick of each other. I've gone over and over my finances. I've sorted items that need to be sent to Portland ahead of my move so I won't have to wait; I've made a list of items that definitely need to be on my person when I arrive. I have a list of things I need to do the first day in Portland (1. Buy litter box.) I've cleaned out the car. I've cleaned out the garage. I don't know what else to do.