It's Thursday night. I have two days left and the list of things to do is getting longer. Remember when I started this thing there was pile consisting of one sock? It's now one sock and small cardboard box with nothing in it. I have, however, found a small Santa Clause and a blood-pressure monitor. This basement looks worse than it did before I began sorting it out and I am starting to hyperventilate.
Last night was the final meeting of my writers group. Cassandra hosted as always. Mitchell and Bill brought food and beer. Cassandra produced more beer. And wine. And something fruity, potent and Israeli. It was a good night. We have never got much writing done but strangely, those three people have allowed me to write. They encourage and they compliment and they make me think that writing is something I can do. I shall miss them very much (and you Terry, if you're out there).
One by one I am saying goodbye. I have some cards now, thanks to Vistaprint. I have enough to give 25 cards to every person I know, so that's what I'm doing. People seem genuinely pleased to get so many.
Everything is a rush and so these reports are not going to win any prizes for great literature. Yesterday I drove Tyson down the South Philly for his USDA-approved veterinary exam and I came away with paperwork in Italian and Slovenian. Today I drove 100 miles to Harrisburg so that a man who looked almost exactly like Terrence Howard could stamp the paperwork. He wasn't Terrence Howard. There were two flags, a picture of Obama, some blue carpet and a window so small I suspected all the employees of the USDA in Harrisburg suffer from crushing shyness. I then drove 100 miles back again. Tyson is legal in two languages.
Tomorrow I visit a Polish shipping company who's quotes are so cheap I suspect they have never shipped anything before, or maybe they just open the boxes after I've gone and sell the stuff on ebay. I'm doing it anyway. If my stuff ends up in Warsaw it will be fun going to get it.
These are the days of saying goodbye. I am only taking it all in my stride because I am so busy. I am worried that I'll get on the plane and at cruising altitude a stewardess will say "Bing Bong...You can unfasten your seatbelt now, and finally realise what you just left behind."
Moving with my dog to Slovenia.