My head is spinning

since the beginning of the year. So many things to do, so many decisions to make.

P has left yesterday for NY, I am all alone. I spent Valentine's day as a single - single mother even. With a glass of wine and Dollhouse after D fell asleep. But that's just fine, since I have never celebrated it any other way, and my first association with it has always been crazy Ophelia.

It is a weird feeling - that I will be staying alone for a month, and I was feeling lost most of the day. I mean we spent ten years together, and even though I visited Moscow for months during that time it was me leaving, which made a difference, and there was no child, which makes even bigger difference. Objectively I am fine, of course, except that D again has a cold and I am worried that I am not doing anything about it.

There are a lot of plans, all about leaving: people to see, info to get, movers to arrange, and the most important one, packing - with the terrible decision to leave half of the books behind. I am trying to decide which ones to pack, and it drives me crazy. Of course, I am not throwing them away, but trying to find them new homes, but still. I am like a dragon asked to part with its hoard of gold.