Countdown, 50 hours

My neighbor in the old building, soon to be ex neighbor, has a dog in his apartment. I've heard it bark now, two nights in a row - last night when I was coming home up the stairs. His yelps were followed by the neighbor's ardent shushing. Dogs are not allowed in this building, but it could of course be a dog-sitting arrangement, or even a new girlfriend's pet. I won't likely ever find out.

One more night here, although I hesitate to call last night a night. I was up most of it. I know it's just excitement and anxiety (because even in this happy time, there are things to worry about, like will the movers I chose be as competent as their sales rep painted them to be? Will my last set of boxes arrive today as promised, so I can finish packing tonight? Will my fish (the remaining) survive the move, and will my nerves survive the netting required to get them in their transport bowl? And what about my sad calendar-reluctant Christmas cactus, whose hot pink blooms have never been this abundant?)

I agreed to an 8 am conference call today, although I am on vacation, but it's a handful of people of whom I am the junior and still building my reputation as a strategic advisor to them, so don't want to miss it. Then the sofabed people come between 10-12 to disassemble, move, and reassemble. I had planned on going over to the new place between the call and 10, but I think I'll just zone out here. My muscles ache, my brain is foggy, and I need to figure out a way to ease them both into functionality.