Eighty mile per hour winds are whipping through the streets of town and through my mind. I feel discombobulated. There are so many things to do all at once and the deadlines loom fast and permanent. I'm having trouble focusing on where to start. My thoughts jumble around the way various blown objects are jumbled against more fast objects, such as the chicken wire that came from no where and somehow wedged itself under my truck in a way that would seem impossible.
This weekend was exhausting but a lot got accomplished and I am very grateful to helping hands. I had one good friend show up and help me with the marathon packing nights. Another good friend rode with me to Los Anchorage to get the U-haul, then back to Small Town, then packing, then back to Los Anchorage, then unpacking, then back to Small Town. Two other friends showed up to help pack the U-haul in Small Town and they also took the Disreputable Dog out for a romp while I was driving it. Two other friends are letting me store stuff in Los Anchorage in their shed, another one showed up to help us unpack. Everything went to Los Anchorage this weekend.
My house is totally empty except for me, the Disreputables, their respective crates, and the couch which I am selling. We sit there in exhaustion...me on the couch, they in their crates, all of us half dozing. There is still all of the little stuff to get rid of and the cleaning to do and the wrap up of the things at work. I am back to where I started when I moved here...sleeping on a cot in my sleeping bag. I've spent more nights in that sleeping bag then any bed I've ever had to lie in. And it is a thing of comfort for reasons I cannot possibly explain. Like everyone else in town the wind makes it hard for me to sleep. It's not so much that it's cold but that it's terribly noisy and you find yourself trying to scrunch beneath the bedding (in my current case burrow into my sleeping bag) with the idea of cold. It is bloody cold out there. When I took the Disreputable Dog out for his evening walk I thought I might just possibly blow away, leaning backwards against the wind to try and create some ballast. Fifteen degrees Fahrenheit (approx. -10C) and 80 mph winds. The feel of one's nose freezing and the skin cracking.
I leave Thursday, the day before the winter solstice, for the Western Lower 48 and family and holiday celebrations. I will be stepping off into mid-air, not knowing yet where I will land but I will not worry about it for now.