Popsicle sadness

Now that we're getting serious about moving, everything has a weird new sheen to it. I look around our house and for the first time, I don't see projects everywhere. I see Other Peoples' Problems.

That drapery cord that's been sticking ever since we moved in? That will be someone else's cross to bear.

Hub-D wanted to prune the lemon tree tonight, and I was kind of half-hearted about it. I mean, why bother getting spider webs and lemon juice all over us when we're just going to MOVE.

And in a much more serious way, I think it changes my friendships. Tonight my friend L. was enjoying our daughters playing together, and she said, "It will be so fun when they're sharing popsicles."

And I felt a little popsicle lodge in my throat. Our daughters won't be sharing popsicles if we move to Nashville or Washington State. Are people going to stop investing emotionally in friendships with me in California if they know I'm leaving at the end of the summer?

I've resolved to spend the summer squeezing as much juice out of my friendships and the weather and the fruits and marvelous things about California. Then if Hub-D still wants to go, we're out.