I will buy you a new life.

Yesterday I spent the better part of the day cleaning my new house. It's not that it was dirty, per se, it's just that it wasn't clean enough. For me. I'm OCD like that. And the owner had refinished the hardwood floors so there was a fine layer of floor dust all over the walls, door jams, ceilings, appliances, etc.

I'm not sure when exactly I'm moving into my new house. It's a moving target. I've got a mid-term on Tuesday that takes priority. Of course moving provides a nice, messy, distraction and fodder for procrastination. I haven't even moved in and I've already had two guests: J and my BFF. Both stopped by to see how they could help, but really cleaning a small house is one woman show. And I'm OCD like that. Did I mention that already? Oh. Well, I'm OCD.

It's an adorable, small, girly house with a nice sized yard for hound dogs. I'll get pictures up as soon as I'm done moving. I'm filled with mixed emotions about this move. And the changes in my life. So far I've done a really good job disconnecting from the reality of what I'm doing. For the past six weeks I've operated on auto-pilot, taking care of tasks on my to-do list without allowing myself to pay attention to the subject matter. My brain just can't handle the emotions and the tasks at the same time. I have a feeling that I'll fall apart after I finally move out of my old life and move into my new life.

I've been living with one foot in each life for months now. I described it once as trying to steal home plate in baseball. I've got one toe firmly stuck to the third base pad and the other pointed towards home. It's hard to let go of the pad, to push off and make a run for it. Those last 90 feet seem a lot further away than they really are. The safety of staying on base is hard to give up. You never know what's going to happen. Even though I'm standing still, my heartbeat rings in my ears and I'm short of breath.

It's too late to stay on base.