Stress Cravings

I’m moving this week. Like the majority of normal human beings, I don’t consider moving a particularly enjoyable endeavor. In fact, it’s downright stressful. Pressed for time, frustrated with packing, there must be a logical stress reliever. Right?

So what do I do?

I go outside when it’s getting ready to storm and I weed the garden-I’m-getting-ready-to-leave-behind.

Logical? Not exactly. But it works.

I douse my nostalgia about the tomato plant that grew from last year’s rotten tomato seeds (and is 20 times healthier than my potted heirloom tomato) in a hefty dose of overgrown mint and spiky weeds.

I wax poetic about the next residents who will let the place go to wrack and ruin in my absence while stabbing my finger on a rose thorn and putting a restraining order on the imperially minded morning glories.

Then I go inside, get a drink, and sit on the couch to watch the storm while I pack my silverware.