Yesterday, Sunday, we sold more of our things—lamps, toaster, coffee maker, a shelf, my desk. We now have no lights in the bedroom (except for the zombie-light of the overhead), and we’re both huddled together at the table with our computers and one awkwardly placed lamp, papers and post-its and pens crammed in around us. It is a situation we can really only sustain for a few, very few, days.
We had dinner at the Ultimo Agave, a Mexican restaurant we like (nearly impossible to find good Mexican food in Spain) and had to sadly say goodbye to it when we left.
Things are getting very sad. But it’s actually an unstable combination of sad and hectic, both of us on edge in our own ways. I cope with hectic chaos by organizing whatever I can, in whatever way I can; yesterday that entailed separating and counting all our loose change, as well as tearing out blank sheets from a few notebooks so I could put them in the recycling bag. Very useful, I know. Andrew copes sometimes by organizing my organization; yesterday, he was intent on sweeping up the loose bits of paper that fluttered to the ground as I tore out the notebook pages. It’s hard for both of us to have things in this quasi-state; we’re ready now to just do it, to get packed up, to corral things into shape and see where we stand. We’re in the final week.