Shere-ing Time, 2

Okay, so here’s what happened next.  I plunged into the Slough of Despond, paralyzed by fear and sense of loss, extending back to the age of about 6, and thinking that such a small person could not possibly cope with the vastness of moving an entire house, indeed, pretty much an entire life, back into an environment which is a part of that very loss; all the mistakes and errors and stupid decisions I have ever made grabbed hold of my quivering soul.  So what do I do?

Well, I play Solitaire on my iPad, of course; upon awaking in the morning, and when I wake up in the night; in the evening before I go to sleep, and of course at nap time.  I love my bed, the only place where the accusation of undone chores don’t confront me, accuse me, wake me from my somnolent state just enough for guilt to weigh me down still  further.

Once on my feet, and even dressed,   I fix a cup of coffee and shuffle papers around in the office.  I walk out to the studio, look at the capless paint tubes, paint rags stiff with dried paint, half-finished canvases and paper leaning against walls and  chairs and the easel, shelves stacked with art books, littered with pencils and brushes and charcoal and pots of dirty paint thinner, and smelling deliciously of turpentine.

However, rather than rouse me to action, it only adds to my burden of guilt and over-whelm, so I close the door and go back in the house.  At least it’s warm in here, and I can wash up a dish or two, or put in a load of laundry, and think I am actually making progress on the tasks before me.

Meantime, the moving companies I very efficiently contacted about 3 weeks ago to come and make estimates on the removal are calling me and emailing me to know if I have made a decision.  Think of it.  Six more weeks to go and they want a decision.  I haven’t even looked at the quotes yet, and how to decide on which one to use is as far away as ever.  It looks like one is about as good as another, and they’ve all been in business for centuries, have professional packers, work with the best van lines in the states, have good relations with the customs people.  And use superlative wrapping materials.

To top it all, and surely the root cause of all my woe, it is still raining off and on, it is cold, down to freezing at night, and mostly cloudy all day.  That’s why I can’t get started.

Fortunately one of my mates knocked on my door at about 6:00 the other night after a hard day at the office.   It was only Tuesday, not a week end night or anything.  She just looked at me and said, “Drink”.  What could I do but reach out to the wretched and be there for her.  In the pub.