the turn of the tide

We're moving, or rather we're in the process of. Drawers and closets explode, stray bits litter the tables to be organized or tossed. The arteries of our hallways are narrowing with boxes, making our small house that much smaller. Yesterday, while trying to navigate this sea of deadly icebergs, I ran fully half of my body into the doorframe. Not a glancing blow, which I am well known for (as Katie says, we need long cat whiskers on our hips and elbows), but a hit so hard I bounced back, then slowly crumpled to the floor with deep-throated mewing and twitching of limbs.

It's almost over. I've lived in this house for seven years. It has seen my highest and lowest moments. Fresh, strange and exciting things are ahead. I can't wait.