I only have seventeen days to go. Moving anxiety has descended. I am experiencing the worst breakout in the history of acne at the moment. Naturally, stress is the active ingredient in the chaos that is my face right now. And naturally, this is stressing me the eff out. What a vicious cycle.
The anxiety is not in any way about the actual move. It's about how the hell I'm going to get rid of all of my shit in seventeen days. Clothes, linens, etc. for donation are sorted and need to be picked up. I really thought that that was going to be one of the biggest challenges so I tackled that part first. Hah. I'm funny. As in stupid. Books, furniture, kitchen stuff, crafting/jewellery supplies, jewellery itself, all kinds of stupid accessories, pictures, wall hangings... WHERE DID ALL OF THIS SHIT COME FROM??? DIDN'T I JUST MOVE SIX MONTHS AGO??? Ugh. Every time I look around the disorganization station that is my living space I develop temporary narcolepsy. And then I find an excuse to go out and not deal with it.
One major accomplishment: I'm down to just 34 pairs of shoes. This is unheard of. The most ironic thing about the shoe situation is that the pair of shoes that started it all (still among my top five favourite pairs of shoes) is my very first pair of black pumps. I bought them the one night that I've been to Toronto. Hah.
Anyhow, the bigger issue for me right now is that I still haven't found a home for Minou. I'm really worried. The Humane Society is not an option. I've got her on waiting lists for all of the no-kill shelters in the city who would take her, but this will take months and I don't have anyone to hold on to her until such a time as a spot opens up for her in a shelter. The past three mornings in a row I've stayed in bed and snuggled with her for almost an hour. THIS SUCKS. I can't think of anything that better articulates the way I'm feeling than that. I really don't think I ever want to own another pet. This is so hard. After the heartache of having to put Midnight, a cat I had had for nearly 21 years, down this past May, and now not being able to keep Minou any longer, I'm feeling a tad emotionally drained in the pet department.
So much to do. This is feeling incredibly surreal. I really am leaving Winnipeg. FINALLY. I've been wanting to get out for what seems like such a long time but I suppose that things like this never really do feel or unfold the way we imagine they might.
I remembered today that I blogged seventeen days before I left Congo. Pulled up the post and read it over. I was in such a tumultuous emotional state at that point. I think I was downplaying exactly how little I wanted to return to Canada. But interestingly enough, I do make reference to the fact that nothing ever happens in Winnipeg in this post. Consider the context in which I'm making this statement: I have just spent two and a half months in a country that may as well be located in another universe in terms of how similar it is to my home country. I have had my life touched by the deepest desparity and the brightest hope I have (n)ever even fathomed existed in this world. A country that's been in a perpetual state of unrest and war for 15 years at this point, since the Rwandan genocide. So at that particular moment in my life, Winnipeg was a place where nothing ever happened. What's changed for me though is that I've grown quite fond of Winnipeg over the past year. It's a really neat little city. I've taken to carrying my camera around with me everywhere and taking pictures of my favourite places. (I'm going to have to get down to the 7/16 at Sargent and Spence over the next few days. LMAO.)
So I'm heading off into the great unknown in just seventeen days. Good grief that happened fast.
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