I’m housesitting, and something is making me sneeze.  Awesome.  Is it the (otherwise awesome) dog?  Theoutdoor cat and her kittens?  The chickens?   Have they been sneaking into the house while I’m at work?

Some people (myself included) might consider it crazy to be housesitting while trying to move.  Of course, I wasn’t thinking about moving when I agreed to it months ago – and I also wasn’t thinking about being busy with a summer internship – and I definitely wasn’t thinking about how wrenching it would be to face a move away from a neighborhood I’ve lived in for over four years (the longest I’ve lived in one place since I left my parents’ house).  I LOVE my neighborhood.  I’m in denial that I’m leaving it (even though the move – in with the family until we all go crazy or I graduate – will save a nice chunk of change).

At any rate, housesitting does have one advantage – I don’t have to think yet about missing Kitri – now ensconced in her very own house – and I don’t have to look the half torn-apart apartment.  And I can get off work and throw sticks for the dog instead of looking at all the things left to pack.  Of course, not much is getting packed since I’m away from home, but…packing is over-rated.

I’ve also been heavy into the escapist literature – not that these books are escapist in and of themselves, but that’s what I’m using them for.  I whipped through Meg Burden’s Northlander – excellent YA with the feel of both historical fiction and fantasy – perfect for readers who enjoy both but are devoted to neither.  I just polished off The Last of the High Kings, sequel to Kate Thompson’s The New Policeman. I’ll do both justice when my brain returns to me (if ever).  I’m also finishing up my reread of The Dark is Rising Sequence by listening to Silver on the Tree – the one about which I remembered the least.  A few things are vaguely familiar, but it mostly feels new (the beauty of a poor memory for plot).  Now I could either start in on The London Eye Mystery (just came in on hold today) or dig a book of William Trevor stories out from under the seat of my car (it seemed like a good place at the time).

What I’m really tempted to do is go retrieve the pint of ice cream from my home freezer.  Why oh why did I leave it there?

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