It’s said that patience is a virtue. It is, however, not one that’s ever been visited upon me. I got the genes for impatience and a general tendency towards the impulsive. In fact not turning the living room into a giant cardboard box fort in three day orgy of packing is becoming the most difficult thing I’ve done in a long time. Such is my readiness to pull up stakes in Memphis and depart for climates north of the Mason Dixon Line.

All it takes is a simple phone call and all this pent up angst can come to an end. To be replaced, of course, by dozens of frantic moments trying to put everything in place on this end and that. At least then I’ll be doing something. As it is now, I’m sitting here looking at a room full of things that need to be packed up and endlessly stalking realtor.com. Neither of which feels particularly productive at the moment.

Have patience, they say. If anyone’s got the trick to that, I’m all ears.