Why I'm Not Packing Yet.

2002-07-02 - 10:48 a.m.

It's darned frustrating that anytime something new is introduced into our lives, Pookie must freak out.

Or maybe, as my mom said so many years ago, I'm too laid back.

This time, it's The Move.

We found out about the possibility of the apartment on Saturday, called our landlady last night to let her know (And, I'm still not clear as to why Pookie didn't want us to leave an "escape clause" if only for a day or two: is it unreasonable to say, "There's a 95% chance we're leaving, and we'll know it's 100% by Thursday?") and so now I -must- begin packing -today-, or, better yet, RIGHT NOW, or else Pookie will be disappointed and feel like he's carrying everything and can't rely on me to ever do anything.

I know it's perverse, but that tone in his voice makes me want to drag my feet even more, especially since he seemed okay with me when I said last night that I would start packing on the weekend.

And he called our lead twice yesterday, and wants me to call her again today despite the fact that I'm likely to see her at work tonight when I go, on account of her working with me, despite the fact that I have it on Good Authority that just because she didn't return his calls right away it doesn't mean she's blown us off.

Maybe it's because I moved about 14 times in the first 12 years of my life, but I can't get worked up about moving this early. Pookie moved maybe three times in between his birth and high school.

Anyway, it is far too hot to pack right now, and I'm not afraid to tell him that.

Cheers,

The Magus

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