The way our past shows up is a trip, to put one way. At one point yesterday, when someone from long ago knocked on the door, my face fell to the floor in shock. I’m not sure how elegantly I recovered, either.
A few hours later, when packing had come to a near-stop, Maggie and I left for 
a break. We happened to walk into a place which brought me back about 8 years, reminding me of what I needed to do.
So, this morning, after a restless night of sleep, despite the promises of the ionized mask, I got dressed, put on my Barefoots, and went running with Mabi. I didn’t run far, a little under a mile, but I did it. My body is hurting like a motherfucker, though. I forgot how bad my feet are.
Ethan and I got most of the packed boxes into the front room. Yesterday, I left a message for the apartment manager, hoping they can give us the downstairs apartment that opens in a couple of weeks. It would be better than rushing to get everything in on May 1.
I’ve also come to realize how uncertain I am as of late – in so many things. There is a lot of fear cropping up and I dislike that immensely. My mind is on constant spin cycle (not that it’s anything new). I’ve realized how much I dislike these emotional attachments I have to books I’ll never read. Granted, my old antiquarian books are lovely and evoke such adoration, yet…. When we get our house, I’ll part with many, I hope. Downsizing is my goal.
Picture: It’s good to get back to my running set-list, despite the pain.
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