Being pecked to death by small birds

This morning, while walking Surly, I watched a small bird fly into the window of a parked car. It bounced off the glass and turned to fly into the window of a nearby building. It ricocheted off the window pane and struck me in the shoulder. Since I was jogging at the time, I was quite startled, but probably more surprised that bird was still alive and flew to safety in a nearby tree.

This is a fitting metaphor for my life right now. I feel like I am being bombarded but I can never tell where each little bomb is coming from. They are tiny, mind you, but numerous. It could be anything from running out of packing tape while in the middle of filling cardboard boxes with our belongings for this move at the end of the month. It could be all the minutiae of packing itself, like remembering to change your address with your bank and your magazine subscriptions. It could be the living with boxes and the incredible shrinking apartment as we do the elaborate dance to try to get around each other, and the dog, while getting ready for work.

This wouldn't be so bad except that my job is unsettled as well. I am moving into a new position (allegedly), so I have tie up all the loose ends, which are a tangled mess left over from my boss, who was fired. On top of this, there is one more alumni event I have to help with, which equates to hundreds (literally) of phone calls with registrants. Finally, the time off I desperately need to help with the condo is in question as well. So many things I thought were done deals aren't. Everything feels messy and don't feel like I have any escape from these hassles and aggravation, even if it's a only temporary reprieve.

I'm so grouchy all of the time. I feel claustrophobic, and I have very little patience. I can't even imagine what life in the new place will be like. I can't imagine what colors the walls will be or what it will be like to have two bathrooms or to have coffee on the back deck or in the sunroom in the summer morning. I can't wait to see an actual dining room with an actual table and chairs. Or the blue room.

Andy showed me a picture from a magazine of the blue room. It's simply a room with different shades of blue paint (and a great purple couch) and other blue accents, but there was something about the color against the wood floor, the contrast of cool colors, that gave me a sense of comfort and calm and joy all at once. Andy promised me that there would be a blue room in the condo, so I hope we can make one. I think I need one.