Tuesday, July 12, 2011
The movers come in five days. In five days, all we will have left to us in Cairo better fit into the three suitcases we've held out of our shipments. Perhaps Lufthansa will check garbage bags?
For the last week, I've been working through the house, looking at every item in it and assigning it to a category: Baku, Virginia, home leave, or trash. After about two hours of this activity, making the crucial decision as Kathleen and Sophia twitter about me, firing self-evident and repetitive questions, more and more items end up in the last category. The more tired I am, the more items end up in the trash.
This is the part of the Foreign Service that I care for least, like the six weeks after a baby is born, the part that you do your best to forget, and cant' quite remember how difficult it is until you're in the middle of it. And I don't even have to pack the boxes myself.
The last time we moved I was about this pregnant, too, and I have to ask myself when I'm tired and crabby and just wish the children would leave me alone why I'm doing this again. But it only lasts so long, and then it will be done with until the next round, which I won't think about just like I don't think about having another baby while I'm pregnant with one.
Friends have asked me how I feel about leaving Cairo, and I honestly just feel tired. I'm too tired to care, which is probably good because otherwise I might feel sad for leaving my home for the last two years. But for right now, until those movers come Sunday morning, it's one step at a time, one drawer before the next, and one more yell swallowed in favor of a smile.