T is for Therpeutic

  There is something therapeutic about our situation at the moment.
  You know how you can spend days not really doing anything, even when you are doing something? You go to work, to school, to do whatever it is you do and you just go with the flow of what has become a routine day, without really thinking about what it is exactly. You find yourself back at home, staring at a screen of some kind or reading that same line of your book over and over until you give up and put it down. I'll just stare off into space at moments like that. Moments where there is no time or things to do or anything pressing.
  There has been no allowance for moments like that in the last two months. The Boy and I have been working solidly throughout them to get this move done and everything organized correctly. So suddenly, as I unpack, I find myself lulled into a sort of mesmerized state. I unwrap all the Boy's trinkets and toys with a slow sort of universal comprehension.
  There's something poetic - as well - about playing your piano, surrounded by the debris of an uprooted address. Like a familial warzone pierced by the melancholic beauty of a lonely intrument.

  In any case, good progress has been made and I am confident in saying that it won't take but a day or two more before we get this place sorted out.

ADVICE: Life isn't a race. Relax.