The posting of tiredness

Igh. I'm freaking tired. So tired that when I woke up yesterday at 7 - next to R., who is my nightly companion these days - my first words were "I can't wait to go to sleep tonight." This morning, the first words were about the possibility of a nap later (not going to happen - too much to do). Absolutely pathetic.

Life feels a little too full of the extremes of tedium and emotion these days. I spent 9 hours yesterday moving all of my stuff out of this housesit into a second storage space (christ on a bike, how did I get so much stuff in my life?? Most of which consists of books?? I am not a knick-knack or junk collector...) and taking the cargo van to IKEA to buy more and more stuff, like a bed, a coffee table, a new shelving unit, lamps, etc, etc. And then moving that into storage, too. Everything hurts - and I am just tired, so tired of moving. That's the thing...it would be seriously indulgent of me to whine if this were the first time in years that I'd moved. But it is the third time in six months - and the fifth time in less than two years, considering that the academic year before last, I moved most of my stuff to another city for 10 months, and came to see R every other weekend. If I have to move again in less than two years, well...let's not go there. Let's just say, I wish that packing tape and bankers' boxes were not my best friends.

So that is all rather boring and tedious and slightly physically painful. (And no, new furniture does not represent fun right now because I don't really have the money to pay for it - had to borrow money from R. And because all I can think about is being in this new apartment in Scary City, by myself, having to assemble about ten different pieces of furniture, including a bed and this ginormous shelving unit, both of which weigh so much I can't even begin to move them.)

And on the other hand, apart from that tedium and general hellishness, there is the imminence of leaving, and what that is doing to me emotionally. Which is another kind of tired. On Friday night I went over to my friends K & J's - my birthday present to K in February had been that I would come over and cook them a dinner. (They are overwhelmed new parents.) So I finally did that, and R came, and the four of us had just such a lovely evening eating and drinking outside. And then I had to say goodbye, and I knew that this was the last time I would be spending with them (apart from a party I am having two nights before I leave - but you know how parties are...it's not quality time, exactly). And it was all I could do not to cry. And in a few hours, I have an annual party of Activity-friends to go to, which I promised I would attend, but which will also be a whole round of goodbyes to dozens of people. Followed tonight by my last dinner at one of my favourite places in this city, with two friends who also want to see me before I leave. Agh. All lovely - but too much. It's just this endless farewell, this constant reminder that I'm leaving this city in which I've lived for 25 of my 32 years, and the networks of people I'm so deeply tied to. Exhausting.

And with all this tiredness, all this overload on all levels, part of me is starting to actually look forward to being in this new city in August, knowing really nobody, and just being able to reacquaint myself with myself. Quietly.