I don’t want to think anymore.
I don’t want to plan.
I don’t want to prepare. Plot. Debate. Decide.
I really don’t want to decide.
I just want to do.
For the past two months, we’ve had a lot to think about. When to put our house on the market. What to look for in a house. What house to buy. What offer to accept. What counter-offer to make. What colors to paint all of our new rooms. What to do, what to do, what to do.
Each time I think that all of the thinking is done and all of the decisions are made, something else pops up.
So today, I started packing. And the doing felt so wonderful.
I only got two boxes packed (getting started in packing involves a lot of cleaning and reorganizing and purging before you really get to the packing) but even those two boxes make me happy. Sitting there happily packed and labelled; I just smile when I see them. They are done. They are neat and contained and I know exactly where they’ll go in the new house. They bring me the satisfaction of having done something.
And hopefully they’ll keep me going through the next dozen of decisions we’ll undoubtedly have to make this week.