Rumor has it that I'm to be moving to Salt Lake City the day after tomorrow. The story goes that right at this moment my darling brother, JAK! and my best girlfriend/Once and Future Roommate, Teaspoon are hurtling across Nevada somewhere in a little pickup driving hitherward to fetch me up and take me back again. So I'm told, anyway, but at this point it's all hearsay as far as I'm concerned. I can envision being back home, but I can't feature how I might possibly be going to get there or exactly when this might be happening or how long it will take to accomplish a feat so mythic and improbable-seeming.
I'll believe it when I see it.
Thus far I have been able to wrap my mind only around the concept Guests Are Coming, and have cleaned the bathroom accordingly. I know they'll probably be pretty done in from driving through the night, but I am looking hopefully forward to a post-nap whirlwind tour of Santa Cruz. I think my little broheim would like this town a lot, and have wished for a chance to show him a little slice of Where Sistron Has Been Living All This Time. So, guests are coming! That will be fun! And then, I believe I am to understand, we will attempt to cram the most vital/bulky of my (too-)many worldly possessions into the pickup and my Geo Prizm and drive it all to Utah, allegedly.
This is where it all gets a little fuzzy for me, because I can't (or just really really don't want to) visualize how we will manage with all of my crap; and because, despite all the packed boxes, everything else seems so completely normal, mostly. Earlier tonight I was sitting around with my boyfriend eating Indian takeout and watching TV; I washed the dishes and took out the recycling and now here I am at the computer. It's so much like every other day that it just doesn't seem plausible that I could be going anywhere at all ever. I'm going to require hard proof, and hard is exactly what this endeavor is going to be.