again

Boy, this is becoming a serious habit. I'm packing up house again, working into the night, making the deadline. Working alone, Hamish is somewhere around Dease Lake, his phone has gone straight to voicemail for three days straight now. I've got a great youtube playlist on, the door is open and I can hear the river from across the hayfield. I'm roasting a chicken in the tiny oven, so small that the cast iron lid does not fit on top of the pot and so it's upside down and offset - all the steam is escaping. I do tend to take pathologically multitask.
At least it's not that much stuff this time. Just what will fit in a 30 foot trailer with pop out. But still; sewing machine, spinning wheel, preserves, houseplants, arts and crafts, library, rugs and an indecent amount of spices and cookware. I mostly live alone, why do I need eight different mugs? I can't remember the last time I drank a hot beverage.
And I've seriously got to eat these mystery jars of gift preserves. BBQ sauce from an ex boss and green sludge that is probably green tomato salsa from years ago. I've been packing them around for far too many moves.
I could have started hours earlier too. But the light was so gorgeous when I came home that I needed to do some archery practice in the back pasture, and I could have left town three hours earlier except that melissa and I met at a downtown park to do some wedding planning over thai takeout. Meatball slept draped over my leg as we wondered where to get a fireweed bouquet at the end of september and how many people a spit roasted lamb will feed. Then it was showing me her nipple piercings and getting my opinion on tinder prospects. All much more interesting that packing up a house, alone, again. Somehow there's little motivation for that.
It would theoretically be a perfect occasion on which to pour myself a lovely beverage to keep me company and put fire in my belly, but I have had the strangest absolute aversion to alcohol since almost a week now. And cravings for ice cream...