Not a good day

I think I may be having a mental breakdown. Yes, I get that this would be just the latest in a long line of many, but I am having a really rough time right now. My lovely northern summer was rudely interrupted by the need to come home to meet up with the movers. Not like I didn't know this when I left on vacation, but still. Somehow it didn't seem real until I arrived home yesterday and immediately wanted to cry. I have felt this very strange sense of dislocation at being here when I don't want to be. It was all I could do to drag all the stuff I didn't want the movers to deal with into a closet that is the "off-limits for packing" closet. And now that they are here today, I am hiding in my room fending off tears. I don't really have any clue what is wrong with me about all of this. Am I suddenly discovering a great love for the Detroit area? Am I having a panic attack over the fact that we are moving to a house I've never laid eyes on except for online? Am I channeling great bitterness towards my husband for moving me yet again? The answers are not likely, I don't think so, and quite probably. But none of this completely explains the general malaise and lingering unhappiness I feel being here instead of being up north in the place of my heart (or la querencia as my old geology professor called it).

And up north right now isn't all sunshine and smooth sailing either from what I gather. Apparently the monsters I spawned took advantage of me being gone to jump on my bed and move it entirely across the room, wreaking havoc on the short trip across the floor. So my mother has grounded them from doing anything at all until I return. She asked if I thought that was too harsh a punishment. While I told her no, I wondered if her sanity can handle having them trapped by their own naughtiness for so long. Maybe I wasn't nearly as bad as my crew are, but I find that I have to temper their punishments because *I* can only suffer for so long before I start wondering how deep I'd have to dig to bury them alive. So in that sense, I guess I'm glad I'm not there. Because sure and fate I'd do something further to tick my mother off and we'd all be in the soup.

So I'm feeling weepy and generally down, I have 4 movers packing up all of my belongings (and this set refuses to pack some very strange things that previous movers have all cheerfully thrown in boxes for me), my kids are 350 miles away and acting feral, I had to run in yucky humidity, and I'm bored stiff with myself. When I was small, this would have been likely to push me towards being bad (or as bad as I ever got), now it just pushes me to want to run away from home and not come back. Guess it's a good thing I'm too conventional for that. :-P