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So have I mentioned I’m moving house?

For the past three weeks now, I’ve become the world’s biggest bore. Friends ask me what I did last night? I say I packed. They ask me what I’m doing tonight? Packing some more. And this weekend? Yup, you guessed it: packing, packing, and just for kicks, a little more packin’ to mix it up. My formerly-fun life has devolved into three main activities: foraging for free boxes, running to the store to buy more tape, and foraging for still more boxes. In between, I put my entire life’s collection of stuff into the boxes, mummifying my favorite objects in newsprint, getting tangled up in bubble wrap. My life revolves around boxes; I’ve started to see them even when my eyes are closed (which is not very often these last few nights; sleep, one of my favorite activities, takes up too much precious time that could be better used for packing).

Packing is a gargantuan pain. There are never enough boxes when you move, or they’re never the right size, and have you ever actually sucked it up and just gone out and bought new ones? They’re kinda expensive, considering how many of them seem to be sitting out in the recycle trash for free whenever you’re not actively searching for them. On top of which, the boy and I have apparently accumulated enough stuff to fit a house two times as big – and this is after our gargantuan, and rather successful, yard sale two weekends ago. Factor in the fact that moving gets progressively more stressful the farther away you have to schlep, and you get to where I am now: in a state of total panicked chaos, desperately trying to move out on schedule. Oh yeah, I don’t think I told you this yet: I’m moving to Scotland -- Edinburgh specifically -- which by most human standards would be considered a fair stretch away from my soon-to-be former desert home in Tucson.

All of which is really a long way for me to say: my dog ate my homework.

See, for a month now, I’ve known that this time would come: when we’d have to pack up our belongings, tie things up here in Tucson, and move on out. But the way things worked in my mind was that I’d be working away at my computer like normal all during the day, and getting the major life change preparations done at night.  Digs would run the same as always; I might have to con a loved one into uploading my articles while I made the cross-country trek to get my car to Boston, then flew out to the UK, and finally got myself settled into a place in Edinburgh, but no biggie: it would be just like when I went on my honeymoon to Morocco… I’d just have to get my articles prepped a few weeks in advance.  What I neglected to realize was that moving to a place for two years is a tad more involved than setting off on a three-week jaunt. And so the last three weeks have flown by, and I’m nowhere near where I’m supposed to be – not with moving, and not with work.

So Digs is taking a short break to move house. For the month of August, we won’t be doing our regular twice-weekly updates. If you’re missing your Digs fix, feel free to browse our attic of old articles. Or hop over to the boards, where there’s fun new stuff to read just about every couple of minutes (it’s a very friendly place – if you’ve never been by, pop over, lurk a bit, or just jump into the fray). We’ll be back to our regularly scheduled programming on Monday, September 6th – uploading fresh new content from our (still-to-be-found) brand-spanking new digs in Edinburgh!


past editor's notes |  02.04.200201.04.200108.28.200003.30.200002.16.2000

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