I wish I could put into words this absolute weariness I have when I think about moving again. Yes, I’m looking forward to not living on creepy corner of doom… Yes, I’m glad I’m moving back to the beaches where I feel at home… Yes, I’ll be happy to not be paying as much for rent as we are right now… But once I think about the actual process, finding the place to move, writing first & last month’s rent cheques, arranging people and truck to help move, packing, unpacking, dealing with freaked out cats, and all of that stuff, I just feel like I’m wilting under the weight of it all. And then I start wondering if this time I’ll be allowed to stay put longer than 8 months. No wonder landlords are worried about getting me as a tenant, I haven’t stayed anywhere longer than a year in ages. I’d be worried too.

Perspective. I have to change my perspective. Before I go mad.