Stitched

Last night Husband and I went Christmas shopping. We essentially finished all the shopping we needed to do, which was lovely. Now we just have to wrap everything. That'll be tonight's project. Wrapping I don't mind so much, even though I'm terrible at it. At least it's something I can do in my pajamas on the floor with my feet nestled into my puppy dog slippers. I love this holiday season, but I'm so tired of being busy every night. It's reminiscent of our wedding planning days, when we longed to just stay home and do nothing and instead were forced to go out and do... well, whatever it is we did.

I think the stressful part of all this is that I don't see our lives slowing down much in the future. After the holidays I'm taking an intensive class at a college (which is two hours away once you factor in traffic). I'm taking the course for a certification exam, and after I finish the intensive winter session course I start a prep course for the spring semester and then sit for the exam in April. In the end of January I have my biggest work event (the five day one).

During this time Husband and I need to figure out where we're going to be next (Boston, Minneapolis, or Austin), where we're going to be living in said chosen area, and what we're going to be doing for work. Which doesn't seem to completely flatten Husband in the same way it seems to completely flatten me - I HATE moving, I HATE change, and I HATE starting over. So anything other than Boston is going to result in a very long and painful adjustment period for me. Even something different in Boston is going to result in a painful adjustment period for me.

I could just choose to adapt gracefully, but at some point in your life it's easier to accept that if you haven't managed to change how you react to things yet, you may never do it. As I said to Husband when we were talking about my being a neat freak, I organized my toy box for Christ's sake. It's sewn into the seams of my personality by now, like those annoying labels that are so tightly stitched into the side of your sweater. If you attempt to cut them out, you're left with a giant hole in your sweater and nothing else to think besides "I should have left well enough alone."