It occurred to me last week that it was August. No big surprise to those of you who own calendars, I know. But I mean August. August. The month before school starts (or sometimes when it starts). The packing month, the planning month, the running around purchasing shit month. But most importantly, the upping roots and moving several hundred miles month.
And then it occurred to me that this year August wasn't August, it was just the end of summer.
This is the first time since 2001 that I have not packed and moved 100-300 miles. Through a quirk in my undergrad institution's housing regulations I had to move off campus for a minimum of four weeks every summer (even if I was doing an on campus internship) and take all my stuff with me. So every August while a student I moved back to campus from my father's house. Then there was an internship, then there was the ill fated bout of law school in Chicago and then last August we loaded the u-Haul and moseyed on over to Kalamazoo. And here I sit.
The concept of staying put was so awkward that I actually felt a bit nervous signing the lease renewal. My logical brain didn't want to pack and move when I didn't have to, but the part of me that does things by pattern and habit was wiggin out.
Thankfully the habit-happy side got a good ole dose of sedative when it realized that I can spend August finishing up all the summer projects I neglected in July.
... or at least that's the plan.