I’m now just 18 days to departure. But I’m feeling pretty good about it (mentally, not physically). I’ve managed to vacate my apartment, with the help of loyal friends, my brother, and my dad’s mini-van. Five years ago, I vowed that I was far too old to be moving myself anymore—but the strange nature of my move made it difficult to hire professionals (it’s been going on in dribs and drabs for months). I had meant to write this post on Canada Day, but I was still moving—exhausted, and physically wrecked, but feeling free for the first time in months. And on the Canada Day holiday I had trouble finding the time to write between my naps.