random acts of senseless beauty

A couple of weeks ago, on one of my days off, I started a book of To Do lists. Things to sort at the house, things to sort with my finances, things to sort in the garden, things to sort at work. Lists of friends I want to spend time with before I go, lists of places to visit during my week off, lists of things I might think of shipping to Nashville, lists of things that should really be sent to the dump, lists of lists of lists.

On Monday Mum & Dad came up to help me get through some. Paperwork was filed or shredded, documents were found for solicitors and financial advisors, phone calls to utility companies were made, and even the garden was weeded and tidied. With my trip to the bank this afternoon accomplishing even more, there is now a healthy amount of black lines in the book. There’s still so much to do, but at least the tricky work of beginning has begun.

Today in the office I counted through the calendar; 11 weeks left till I’m out of there. When you take into account 2 of them being leave, 1 being Glastonbury and the majority of a 4th on a training course, then there’s only 7 ‘real’ weeks left. I can handle that.

There are such mixed feelings in all this. I’m hit, from time to time, with an enormous awareness of what I’m leaving behind. Friends both in the office and out, job satisfaction and security, a regular pay-check, the flat that we’ve made our home, my family, my family, my family. But then it’s buyoed with the excitement that I’m really doing this. I’m stepping out and finding my future, and the words of Wordsworth (which are currently all around me as part of Poems On The Underground) ring in my ears.

… now free,
Free as a bird to settle where I will.
What dwelling shall receive me? in what vale
Shall be my harbour? underneath what grove
Shall I take up my home? and what clear stream
Shall with its murmur lull me into rest?
The earth is all before me. With a heart
Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty,
I look about; and should the chosen guide
Be nothing better than a wandering cloud,
I cannot miss my way. I breathe again!

Le Sigh

Oh… and here’s a picture from WONDERFUL Steve & Lisa’s wedding. My adoring and adored friend Maddie and I spun and spun and spun in our dresses. We then hugged, and kissed and squeezed – always in that order remember? Ah, the freely-given love of a 3 year old. Is there anything sweeter?