I’m down with a cold and I’m in the office, on a beautiful winter day, feeling sorry for myself.
* * * *
Yesterday, I came across a great blog post that drew similarities between moving (as in relocating from one place to another) and death, arguing that moving houses is like dying, but on a small scale; we are forced to leave behind some of our precious belongings, as if it was a rehearsal for when the time to leave EVERYTHING behind comes. The thought is daunting but, as someone who has relocated to a new city 6 times, I can totally empathize with the feeling.
I wish I could elaborate more on this, or at least include a link to the article here, but I can’t find the blog where I read it and I can’t be bothered to write anymore; my nose is leaking, my eyes feel heavy, and I still have a meeting to attend before going home.
I told you I was feeling sorry for myself, didn’t I?