Dispatch from Oregon

This is so strange. I’m sitting at a desk in my parents’ downstairs office-type room. I’m looking alternatingly at an iMac screen and out the window at a blossoming apple tree. I’m adjusting the sweater around my shoulders because it’s cold down here, even with the space heater on Medium. This is all so strange because it’s so familiar – a year ago I spent most of every day in this exact position while writing my culminating/thesis papers for grad school. Day in and day out I’d come down here with a cup of tea or coffee and get lost in hours of reading and notations, citations and writing. These tasks consumed my every waking moment and a lot of my dreaming ones as well.

It’s strange to be here because so much has happened in the last year that this desk it totally foreign in many respects – at the same time I feel like not a week has passed, and sitting here I’m feeling some anxiety over whether or not my papers are truly finished. I had a dream last night that I had to go back and rewrite them. Eeeee.

I’m here to relax, though. I’m here for a few days to help my grandma move from her condo to an assisted living center. I’m here to hang out with my parents and walk Stinky and pet the cats. I’m here to watch bad TV and eat macaroni and cheese. I think I’ll just have to avoid this room while I’m here if I want to truly relax. Luckily I don’t have to walk through this room (my parents massage business’ office) to get to the massage room where I intend to spend some very relaxing hours. Now to hunt down my mom and do some massage for yardwork bartering!