Surprise Thursday Post

After I got home from work on Friday, I took a nap.  It was hot (it got up to 118F) and bright and I resent the influx of the Protestant Work Ethic that ignores the fact that smart people sleep during the hottest part of the day.  Anyway, while I was asleep, my boss called and let me know that they wanted to keep me until the end of July, more or less.

This is more or less perfect, because it will give me enough time to get everything done before we move.  Moving has become the all-encompassing thought pattern.  I want it to be done, to be moved already, and I’m sort of resenting the intervening time that I have to wait to get to it.  Especially since it’s keeping me from enjoying things I normally love, like browsing at the used bookstore or thrift shopping, because everything I think about has to pass the Would I move it across the country? test before I can bring it home, and almost everything fails.

Meanwhile, it’s hard to do anything other than browse in stores (no longer fun!) or go to movies because it’s just too hot to go outside.  Monday I indulged in the kind of outright complaining about the heat that I normally stop myself from doing, and I realized how absolutely tired I am of the unrelenting heat.  Late October to early April, more or less, this is a beautiful state to live in, and I’ve always joked about how everywhere you go has a lousy season, and at least you don’t have to shovel sunshine. Which is true, certainly, but unless you live in the extreme north, most places don’t have up to seven months of crappy weather.

I’ve lived in Arizona most of my life.  I moved to Phoenix with my parents when I was in elementary school.  We moved to Tucson a few years later, and I spent junior high and high school there, but I moved back to Phoenix for college when I was 18.  Aside from a brief period in Pennsylvania, I’ve spent my entire adult life in the East Valley.

I started this post on Tuesday morning, and was basically going to go into a paen about the bittersweet nature of leaving somewhere you’ve been for a long time, particularly with the idea that I might never return to Phoenix again.

And then, on Tuesday night, we had the worst dust storm in modern history.  Bad enough that the news channels stole a word to describe it that has its origins in a desert much more terrible and unforgiving than ours.  It struck my part of the Valley around 7:45, almost immediately after I got in the car to go pick Jack up from work.  I drove through the worst part of it, through an unnatural darkness that reminded me of nothing so much as a blizzard.  There was a tiny bit of moisture in the storm, just enough that my car looks like it was raining mud.

I’m ready to leave now.

~ by Amber on July 7, 2011.

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