Tuesday, August 30, 2005

T: Minus 72 hours

I'm leaving.

I'm leaving.

I completed one of the more painful stages of the process today -- destroying my earthly possessions. Nothing like the aroma of a fine municipal landfill lingering in your sinuses for the day. The furniture is now gone, save a stubby little chair and an old printer table to hold the monitor off the floor. My living room is now a white latex reverb chamber. The dark green shag is spattered with all of those little things that were too important to process during the triage phase of sorting and destroying and packing 16 years of accumulation; straw wrappers, receipts, pine shavings from the hog's cage, used fabric softener sheets, a couple of years worth of dust.

I have 2 days to finish clearing the house and packing The Truck. In that time, I also have to work in a dinner with my Alaskan family, selling my car, renewing my driver's license, and getting a case of Alaskan Smoked Porter for the expatriots in PDX. It will be mad panic from the time I awake tomorrow morning until the time I fall asleep in The Truck Wednesday night before heading out to Whittier on Thursday.

I'm actually leaving. This realization gives me great panic. Alaska was much more than a tourist destination -- I've now lived here longer than anywhere else, ever. It's home. I'm not sure I've put enough thought into this plan.


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