Nest

A cold, soggy day spent ensconced at home, binging on Gilmore Girls and popcorn and hydrating the shit out of myself while slowly emerging from the vision-occluding halo of a two-day migraine. My eye sockets still throbbing, I massaged aloe into the dry, itchy, red patches of skin on my face, a souvenir of mysterious origins that popped up mid-holiday in Seattle. Around 7pm, my brain seemed to click off and I collapsed into a compulsory nap. I feel fuzzy and frayed around the edges, simultaneously sleepy and wired, like I’m standing on one leg and my knee is starting to shake.

Exhaustion, my friends. I start counting up the weeks, months of stress (good, bad, in-between), the before/during/after of interviews, the waiting to hear, the decision making, the sharing of the decision with the supervisor, coworkers, collaborators, etc., the getting various ducks in a row to make my soon-to-be-former supervisor’s, coworkers’, and collaborators’ lives a bit easier. Then, the thousand details of moving, packing, traveling, acquiring an apartment, address changes, new licenses and license plates, waiting for things to arrive, unpacking. Starting the new job. The holidays.

Whew.

I have lists. Short, medium, long term goals, projects to start, Alaskan adventures to pursue. But for now, for the next week or month or so, it’s TV, books, snacks, and inappropriately timed naps, until both feet are back on the ground.

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