I still haven’t done the diagram for watering the plants when I’m gone. That is … man I just don’t want to fucking do it. Walk around the fucking yard and water the fucking plants. How god damn hard is that?
Only it is harder than that. Many of my plants have been selected because they are drought hardy. If you water them too often they will get root rot and die. I have one non-food high water plant that has to be watered just about daily. It’s special. I *fucking love* hydrangeas and I know I’m a selfish asshole for growing them here. I get *one* high water plant.
And then there is everything in the middle. And I should diagram the yard and explain it to Noah and the baby sitter. They need my explanation. But it sounds like work and I just don’t fucking want to do it.
I’m done packing. Well, except for perishable food. That’s the only stuff left to pack. I feel like I’m getting shit done.
But I don’t want to draw that god damn diagram. Don’t know why. I’ve been resisting for years. Every stupid ass gardening books wants you to diagram your land. Maybe that is why I am resisting. Because I’ve been told a lot of times by now. Anything I’m told to do many many times… I resist. No. Don’t wanna.
I really screw myself over. If my plants die, I will be the only one to cry.
The van is… perhaps more heavily loaded than is optimal. It will be good when we eat the food and finish reading the books so we can mail them home. We could easily/happily lose 200 lbs and the van would be happy.
I keep thinking, “Surely this isn’t as heavy as when I brought two cows home. Come on, van!”
I am truly astounded by what a work horse this vehicle is. I don’t think people usually buy minivans for the cargo abilities. They are for bodies, right? Hell no. You can put so much shit in there.
50 hours to go. That doesn’t feel like very long. I’m looking around the house. I should take pictures of the house and yard and post them so I can look at them when I’m feeling home sick.
I have spent most of my life feeling home sick even though I didn’t have a home to go back to. This is going to be a novel experience. I have a home. I belong here. I’m supposed to be here. I’m allowed to be here. I’m wanted here. It’s lovely.
Tomorrow morning Noah is going in to work a trifle late so we can renew the passports for the girls. I don’t need them for the road trip but we need them next year for the cruise. Best not to wait until we get back.
Tomorrow is up to three appointments. Passport, dim sum, and chiropractor. It’ll all work out. That’s not a hard day.
Wednesday I want to take a long bath and that’s it. I don’t want to do work. Poor Noah may come home to breakfast leftovers. Sorry, dude. We’ll see how antsy I feel.
Ok. Go do stuff.