I think I'm getting some of Yuri's cold, along with a bunch of upper back pain that I'm now convinced is the same gall bladder thing my dad had. Milk of calcium bile - I've been looking it up and it's rare, but my symptoms seem to match. I'll see the quack about it on Thursday.
The move is too soon and not soon enough. I think about landing in Sydney with just our suitcases, piling into a hotel apartment, and I'm impatient to be there already. I think about the leave-taking, the people I want to see, the places we need to go, the litany of tasks and I'm worried we don't have nearly enough time.
The move eleven and a half (almost) years ago with G happened with similar suddenness. I said my goodbyes and we had a farewell party and even then I mourned Australia, dreaming constantly of unfinished business all that first year. But then I returned to Sydney for my sister's wedding, and saw my friends at my leisure, and revisited the haunts that I had kept dreaming about - the beats at Sydney University, the saunas and bars, the parks. I felt myself regressing somewhat when at home, back into the old caged lion pattern that had marked my late teenage years. I made peace with the memories and it was time to move on. Also, I had sex with twelve men in the two weeks - I was in my mid twenties, of course.
So, I think when we've arrived in Sydney, there will be the excitement of settling in, buying a house and making it home, reconnecting with old friends and making some new ones. But there will also be the yearning for California and the places we wanted to see one last time. We'll come back to collect Dax and Weensie and take ourselves on a vacation to all those places. We'll be on vacation, so there will be plenty of friends time. But what the hell do I know?