From incredulity to a pit in my stomach

I'm moving through whatever would be the equivalent of the "12 stages of grief" for moving, but I can't really think straight for what all the 12 steps would be.  I just now that in the last week, the pit in my stomach has surfaced.  Luckily for me, taking a walk and making lists are two easy ways to reduce the grapefruit-sized ball in my stomach to plum-sized.    

So does cleaning.  Last weekend I scrubbed some baseboards and touched up chipped paint on the first floor.  Why?  Because those are things I can do, unlike all the things on my list that can't be done until June, July, or after we move.  I think that is what causes the pit: the anticipation of so many things that will have to be done, but can't be done now.  

So, find me in June and I'll let you know what the next step is.  In the meantime, send some warm spring weather to DC so I can take my walks in the sunshine, instead of the incessant off-and-on rain plaguing the area.