Ambushed

Everything looked normal. But it didn't take long for me to process the truth - my stuff has been taken. Someone came into my house while I was at work, and a lot of my things are missing. As I look around, I see empty book shelves, empty cabinets, empty closets.
I have been violated.
And not entirely without my permission.
This morning, instead of helping my husband direct movers and sort through items and double check our packing list and try to awkwardly dust, I chose to avoid the entire situation by escaping to work. Weeks of procrastination and avoidance culminated in the moment of my arrival home this afternoon. Half of me has been working hard to prepare for the move: buying items we needed, whether or not they were approved by customs, and setting them aside for the movers to take. But half of me was not preparing. Half of me was reading books and grading papers instead of sorting through my classroom supplies. Half of me was buying new clothes instead of sorting through what clothes I needed to take. Half of me was visiting with friends & relatives rather than try to find a renter.
Half of me is ready to leave.
Half of me is not.