Idling

I’m just over three weeks from the move. There’s a lot to do. I still have half a condo to pack. I’ll have to call at least two utility companies to move services. The Post Office needs to know to forward mail, and of course there’s the myriad of companies that need to know as well.

I’ll need to secure a truck to move the stuff too large to fit within my Impreza. Hell, there’s even the simple logistics of moving two cars the 2 miles that separate where I am and where I will be.

The trouble is, until I sign on the dotted line, none of this stuff can really happen. Until the bank gives the final appraisal approval, it could all fall apart. Until the inspector gives me the all clear, I could still need to walk away.

So I sit in limbo. I’ve packed as much as I can get away with. I can’t make any purchases until I have a place for them to go, and I certainly don’t want to risk cutting off my existing services before I’m ready to start fresh.

Idling. Waiting.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve noticed how the days have slipped by faster as each year passes.  Yet, recently the days are indeterminably slow to pass.

I need the distractions of my social life more than ever, spending my time waiting for something to happen is incredibly boring.