For some reason, I used to think that if I lived in one place long enough to finish a box of dryer sheets, I would have been there forever. I mean, that would be truly settling down.
In case you need some perspective on what that means time-wise, I’m pretty sure I was using the 40-sheet boxes of dryer sheets at the time. I couldn’t imagine being in one place for more than approximately 30 weeks. Between moves back home, to new dorms, and to various summer destinations, things worked pretty well within that framework through college. Life was mobile, and home was where I found a pillow. I liked it that way.
Around that same time, my life plan was to be an international gypsy. I would be a Hannah-like gypsy, of course. Instead of being known as a pick-pocket, I would get whatever job I could in a town and stay for a while. (Work papers? Nah. Those are totally mythical. Language barriers? Also mythical.) Then I would pick up and try out the next place I felt like seeing. It was the perfect plan until I bought a couch and a dog. They were the beginning of the end.
I sat down yesterday in my annual review at work and realized that it was in fact the second review I’ve had at this job. Not only have I started buying the larger boxes of dryer sheets, I’ve also come to a place where I have no idea what or when my next move will be. I’ll let you know how I feel about that when I find out. In the meantime, I need to come up with a unit of measurement that doesn’t involve laundry (or years… I can never keep track of them).