September is knocking on the door and, despite sunny days, a gloomy expectation of colder times hangs in the air. Memories from the summer are rapidly increasing distance, and as that speed grows, so does my focus on the journey.
Yet, lately I’ve found myself spacing out a lot. Mostly staring at the clouds and thinking of nothing in particular. There are still a lot of preparations to be done: I haven’t found suitable tenants for my apartment yet. The car should be put up for sale. A lot of paperwork to be done. More vaccinations. Dentist. And I need to think about what I’ll pack along for the trip.
Do I need another suitcase? Or should I opt for a large backpack and suitcase combo?
And that is just the personal stuff – I also have a lot of work things I need to wrap my head around if I’m going to make things happen over there.
Am I going about this the right way? Should I be more ready at this point? Am I missing something, any crucial stuff that will come up in the last minute?
Or am I just fussing?
I don’t know. So I stare at the clouds, let time flow by and wait for that distant peace of mind.
I’ve put my apartment up for rent, for the duration of the trip. I’ll rent it with furniture, appliances and just about everything except the dog. And it’s a strange thing, something so very obvious, but at the same time something that I hadn’t given too much thought: someone else will be living in my home.
Preparing food in my kitchen. Watching shows on my tv, on my sofa. Sleeping in my bed!
I think what makes it odd is that the furniture is there; it’s a complete home. Mine. If I moved out everything and the new tenants would have their own stuff for those six months, it wouldn’t be the same.
But it’s not a problem, just an unfamiliar thought. It’s a nice home and I’m happy to offer it to someone temporarily.