Among the many (mainly) charming qualities I inherited from my beloved Zissel (my mother), one is a tendency toward low impulse control. I say "tendency" because one can learn to control low impulse control which I feel I've done a bang-up job of learning on my path toward functional adulthood. Mother, perhaps not so much, but that's okay, it keeps her lively. Sometimes, in the interest of preserving character, I allow myself to act out a little. Make major life changes on the spur of the moment, tell-off someone I feel might be in need of a good tell-off, driving to the beach on a whim. As I grow older and, gasp, mature, it becomes easier to make the right choices. Perhaps, from having to live through and resolve so many bad choices, I've simply grown weary of all the trouble that follows the vibrant torrential joys of unrestrained spontaneity.
Sad on the one hand. Extremely practical on the other. I don't want it to go entirely away, however. It's a part of me I want to keep alive... my little rabid center that I have learned to overcome if needed through years of denial, but every once in a while, I have to indulge the beast or risk her loss. I don't think my eyes would look the same if I didn't keep a little of the crazy for myself. You can't give it all over to therapy.
Anyhoo...
I expect I'll be busy in the next few weeks because my burst of life-changing fury has left little time for planning and packing. Can't wait for all the new projects that I'll find in my new abode. I have loved bluehouse and the neighborhood but I'm ready for a little change of scenery. And, Eleanor needs a yard to play in...
Maybe I should start here with "How to Avoid Moving Day Pitfalls"
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