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An odd thing happened after I posted all that about death last night. I felt good.

I'd felt rotten all day, very stressed about moving and about life in general. I turned down a dinner out (!) on grumpy bastard's tip money to stay home and pack and brood. But writing out something so personal, and hard, and meaningful (to me, anyway), and posting it -- rather than something just meant to be entertaining -- was remarkably freeing.

Such that when my former co-conspirator came home, still unhappy about the way a difficult conversation had gone the day before, I was so far from the place I had been that I found it kind of funny. And I was able to articulate some things that had been bothering me about the moving process. He didn't agree with my take on things; but oddly enough, that was okay too. When I reflected on it, I realized that I was satisfied just having expressed my concerns. I didn't need to convince him.

So. Let that be a lesson. Talk about death. It'll cheer you up.

--rf