It's a cliche to draw an analogy between one's emotions and the weather, but there you have it. The clouds can't make up their mind: one minute it's kindasorta spitting, the next its raining in earnest, and 5 minutes later, clear skies. And it all repeats on the hour.
Last night, as I was falling asleep, a teeny tiny voice said, "Maybe you can still change your mind and just stay here." I awoke this morning to newly sorted bookshelves, and joy: I know I've made the right decision. I'm ready to go.
The problem, as I see it, is that I made this decision ages ago, or at least started down a pretty inevitable path, anyway. I'm moving for a job that I received after working at The Firm last summer, after interviewing for the job the October before, after being screened for the interview in July of 2003, after applying for a screening spot in April, after deciding in 2000 that it would be cool if Pat and I could somehow live in the same city in 5 years.
It's been a long, long time coming. I'm angsting a little bit because of that, because there's a lot going on, but mostly because change - no matter how much you want it, and no matter how much you've planned for it - is hard.
As usual, I need to be more patient with myself.