My mother has decided that she can stay here no longer, has rescheduled her surgery (that would render her immobile for a day) and today we are packing up whatever we may need for a few days. We're not leaving the house permanently; my dad works a 7 AM - 6 PM shift most days, so we'd be able to indulge in the "luxuries" of our house during the daytime.
Clothes, food, books, computers, etc. etc. . . We're packing it all up and leaving. We're also going to be meeting the real estate agent from a few days ago, and sign for the condo we checked out. If we can't move in right away, mom says, we'll get a hotel. She says she needs to breathe, and that dad's not letting her do that.
It's an interesting sensation, I guess. Packing up as if we were moving yet again. I've moved about 4 times in my life, but it's been years since the last one, and therefore I am blissfully out of shape when it comes to art of packing boxes, sharpies and tape. Tissue wrapping valuables is a skill I've long since lost. So I'm just going to jam as many clothes as I possibly can into my suitcase, grab a few books, all electronic gizmos and whatever remains of the Mountain Dew.
Clearly, my plan is fool proof.
Anyway, finger's crossed that the next time I write you, it will be in that condo with the hideous floral couches.
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