I Should Be Doing A Million Other Things
After a chilly first half of May, summer arrived with a sweaty vengeance this morning as I ran early morning errands and tried to organize my life before the Big Migration.
Now I sit, pantsless, clad only in the boyfriend's oversized T-shirt, sipping hot lemon water and Chinese tea, enjoying the green sunlight filtered through the trees in the park, enjoying the relative quiet, enjoying this perfect apartment; one of the last times I will do so.
Summer brings a peripatetic lifestyle of European adventures and California weddings and various concerts and doubtless lack of sleep and my first foray into homelessness and living out of a suitcase for at least two months. The flighty, possession-loathing part of me rejoices. The safe, rational, levelheaded part of me wonders if I should be taking more precautions and planning a bit better. But the flighty, possession-loathing part of me pushes the other part out of the way, throws all her stuff into the garbage, hops on a plane, and says good night and good luck to rational thinking.