Yesterday I was on a mission. Now that my thesis is nearly done (I defend on April 11), I need to start getting other things done. I need to sell my house, register for classes at Minnesota, make plans with work, do all of the necessary stuff that goes along with making a major move.

I gave my resignation at work yesterday. I didn’t give the customary two weeks. Oh, no. I gave three months. I’ve been worried about my workload being shifted to my co-workers and I wanted to give as much time as possible so that a new person could be found. We are hopeful that a new person will come in before I leave so I can ease them in to the position. That would be ideal.

My last day at work: July 4, 2008. I laughingly said I was going out with a bang. One of my co-workers said, “That is your independence day!”

It will be odd. I won’t have work until late August. I’ll be moving in to my new home, getting used to a new city. It will be a whole different way of life.

I took boxes home. I am going to start getting rid of things I don’t need and boxing up the things I want to keep. Moving is good for purging. Things seem so important until you have to move them. Then you realize how unimportant they really are.

I contacted my advisor at Minnesota and we started discussing the courses I will take. Then I was worried. She said that most students take two classes. Two? Two? That’s it? I called my brother. Is that enough? Will I be bored? He told me to stick with their recommendation. Doctoral courses, he admonished, are not like anything I’ve ever taken. The amounts of reading will be astronomical. The time it will take to comprehend what is being said will be more than I’m used to. But…should I just see how it goes with two? Just take two, he states emphatically.

Everyone is worried that I’ll overload myself. I’m prone to doing that. I get eager. I get excited. I want to please. I want to learn. I want to immerse myself. Then I feel like I’m drowning. I make do, but it isn’t quite the level I’d like to be at most times. So, I’m going to do my best to heed his advice.

My advisor also sent me the link to her real estate agent. She suggested some neighborhoods that would be good. I started thinking that since I won’t have my brothers/brother-in-law handy-men around, maybe it would be in my best interest to get a townhome. It’s still an investment, but they take care of a lot of things. I wouldn’t have to worry as much.

The Cubs lost — but it reminded me that Chicago isn’t far from Minneapolis and I could go to a Cubs game now and then. While I’m not typically a fan of the American League, the Twins are in Minneapolis and it would be so much fun to attend games.

Willow, age 9 now, got a cell phone and immediately called, texted, and sent me a picture. We’re excited because we’ll now be able to stay in touch more easily when I move away. I told her she could text me anytime she wants. I’m on her approved list of people she can contact.

Yesterday morning I was worried and scared about the move. By afternoon, I was motivated to get working on it. Amazing what can change in a matter of hours.