When Poets Do Too Much…

I am operating on about four hours of sleep every night since last weekend. In the last nine days, I’ve been in the middle of renovating multiple projects at the new townhouse as the seconds ticked down to our move-in date this weekend (final projects to be finished this weekend;) I went on an overnight trip to a poetry festival last weekend; this week I guest-taught a class at Cascadia Community College and drove the 6-hours round-trip to Port Townsend to do a reading. Today I packed up the last of our unpacked belongings, an overnight bag for the transitional day, and tried to remember everything you have to do before you move out of a place: cancel utilities, change the address with bills and insurance and all that. Every night I’ve been having anxiety dreams about not getting everything done, for some reason.

My friend Annette and I had a lovely time at last night’s reading in Port Townsend, with the Northwind series. The host Bill was very gracious and I even recognized a handful of people in the audience! A really gracious group to read for, and they always buy books! The weather was just gorgeous, we saw about six deer and all the mountain ranges were visible, and when we went out to dinner beforehand, the waiter remembered me from a reading I did last year at the Writer’s Conference. Hilarious! I do not have the kind of fame where I’m recognized in restaurants often, in case you were wondering. We did miss the ferry going back, so while we left the house at 2 PM, we did not make it home til past midnight. And we had to be at the new house to let in the glass installers this morning at 8 AM. Good times. 

This note is a reminder that we all have an energy bank we draw from, and sometimes we (and by we, I mean I) need to learn when to put on the breaks. For instance, the week you are moving into a new house, perhaps you should not schedule several public appearances where your brain has to work in order for you to be successful. You would think after the thirteen moves in the last fourteen years we would be better at it, the planning, the packing up, the organization…But no. We are just as crazed and disorganized as usual. Oh well! At least we don’t foresee moving again for a few years at least! The wind is crazy outside and our power is flickering on and off, a pathetic fallacy that is echoing my blinking inner energy lights. When I post next time, I’ll be moved in, a real homeowner again, with a park next door and a little garden plot for me to try to attract hummingbirds with. Wish us luck!