Other than waiting around for Brett Smith to come and discuss how we were going to solve the stove problem, I had time this morning to start making the shift to GHP.
In years past, I would be making this shift weeks in advance, but this year, I haven’t been able to give a lot of thought to the fact that on Monday I descend into the maelstrom that is the Georgia Governor’s Honors Program and won’t emerge until July 23. How I’m going to hold to my vow of creating every day remains to be seen.
But I have to prepare, to begin unlocking those parts of my brain that I keep stored away all year because they’d be an impediment in everyday life. Part of the process is welcoming all the new staff members, which I have done, although not all of them have acknowledged being welcomed.
Another part is going through my document files and changing the year in the headers of memos, handouts, etc. I haven’t done that yet.
And yet another part is cleaning out the van and packing. Years ago I began a database of all the stuff I needed to be sure to take. I have opened that up a couple of times in the last few weeks to double-check it, to add items to it, to delete some items. When it’s time to pack, I print it out, sorted by location. This makes it very easy to pull what I need from the kitchen, the closet, the study, etc., without worrying about backtracking or forgetting something.
So this morning I began that process as much as I could. The whole kitchen dining room are in disarray because of the appliance move-in, which of course won’t be finished until I’m gone. That means I don’t have as much staging room as I usually do, and I may be apt to forget something in the clutter. I must be especially vigilant.
Still, I managed to pull together all my kitchen and, more importantly, all my bar stuff.
The rest of the day was spent going to a graduation party down past Moreland that didn’t exist, then an engagement party in Marietta that did. In between we passed through Fayetteville to return the elliptical, which was still making grinding noises, and got a new one. So yet another source of stress: I have to spend part of tomorrow, my packing day, putting together another &%$*#! machine.
Is it any wonder that my brain is not ready for GHP?