Just a jump to the left...

And then a step to the right.

Greetings from the middle of a Time Warp!

I could swear it was just August 1st. Or June 1st, for that matter. Our trans-Atlantic move draws ever closer with each passing day, and time is seeming to accelerate the closer we get to our move date that is the centerpoint to this insane vortex. We've given our move-out notice. We've submitted resignation letters. We've bought plane tickets. One way plane tickets. Just about all of the advance preparations that can be made have been by this point, and the only tasks left to us are to finish sorting through the material possessions that comprise our lives here and pack what we deem worthy of taking. These are not small tasks, admittedly, but most of the brain work is done for now.

I know that, looking back, these next few days really will be the calm before the storm. And I'm grateful that we still have four weeks to dedicate almost solely to packing. But I also know that in just a few short days our moving timeline is going to reach terminal velocity, and everything is going to happen at blinding speed until the tornado finally sets us down in Oz. Or Dublin, as it were (both places have munchkins and rainbows so the analogy holds up, deal with it). Then, once we finally make it over to Galway, things will be even more frantic for at least another week while we house hunt, set up bank accounts, and fill out kilometres of paperwork.

And that right there is some scary shit.

With this in mind, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that I'll probably need to retreat to my happy place many times before September is through with me if I want to maintain what little sanity I still possess. But hey, that's what wine, Tim Burton movies, and The Ricky Horror Picture Show are for.

Peace out, Transylvanians.