Only three days and the pressure is mounting. There’s still so much to pack and so many things to do. My cold is lingering, settling into my sinuses so that by the end of the day my head is pounding from the pressure. We’ve chosen a mover and need to call PG&E to set up the gas meter. There is still the nagging issue of whether the garage door opener will actually work. I keep opening closets and cupboards and finding more things to pack, or stuff that should have been left for Salvation Army when they came earlier. The night before the move when we should be doing last minute packing, I’ve got to be at church because long before we knew we were going to move that day, I agreed to play an oboe descant for one of the songs for the Maundy Thursday service (and no, I don’t know what Maundy means either).

We went to dinner last night in our soon-to-be-home town and discussed church politics with the waitress, who also happens to be the choir accompaniest. It was an eerily adult feeling. We drove home with shared thought that by this time next week that trip home would be a lot shorter.

There’s nothing left to buy for the house; that is, no more decisions that have to be made before it can close. We’ve plenty more to buy once we’re in, but nothing of the earth-shattering status that results in quests like this past weekend, where we were reduced to wandering umpteen home and hardware stores searching blearily for just the right towel bar and toilet paper holder. It’s an odd feeling to no longer have questions to answer. Now we’re the ones with the questions. Will the inspections pass? Will they get it done? Will anything happen to prevent us from moving in?

The piles of boxes in the garage are growing, marked with the room each one should go to in the new house. The cats don’t seem to be too fazed yet. They’re having fun diving through piles of packing paper (special blessings to those who saved their dishpacks and nice packing paper for me, piled in their garages for months) and lurking in and around the empty or half-full boxes. I watch them and try to remind myself that I wanted this; have looked forward to it; have dreamed of it.

Three days and then it’s over. Finally over. We just have to make it that far.