I actually had to close the window here at my desk because the breeze coming in is too cool. (I'm not complaining!)

A followup to yesterday: I can't believe I was dense enough to forget that those chives of course would go to seed and I couldn't let the cheery blossoms just do their thing. I'd have been responsible for an upsurge of garlic chives in all of Northern Virginia at the rate they were going. Upon receiving Rita's diplomatic reminder, I got my father's ancient, rust-encrusted scythe out of the garden shed and made quick work of them. (The blade is so dull on that old tool it more broke the stems than cut them, but it worked.) The blooms are now decorating the mulch pile.

And I've decided I'll forgo future catharsis by not reporting on all the minute twists and turns of the house situation. Right after I published yesterday, Steve emailed that his company has proposed a new termination date: June 12. If that remains, it will give more than enough time for vestment and a little more wiggle room for everything that has to happen. It appears, though, that the company and TSA are in bargaining mode over this particular issue, so there's every chance that TSA will respond with something else, or stick with their original March date. Instead of either making you nauseous with all the back and forth or causing you to pull out tiny violins to play "Hearts and Flowers," I'll just let you know when something actually happens. The train is in the station, that much is sure.

This insistent need in me for resolution must be genetic. It's as basic and reflexive as breathing to me. For what it's worth, in Myers-Briggs terms I am an off-the-charts "J." Every major decision in my life has been driven by what feels somehow mandatory rather than simply preferable. I don't do well with too much choice--I enjoy randomness and chaos as long as there's no requirement that I exercise some kind of choice from within them. I don't shop; I march in and get what I want, having already researched the choices. (But I do love browsing in junk stores. In that situation, I'm merely a tourist, without responsibility.) I'll work like hell to get a job done for the very sake of having it done and not having to do it anymore. I make to-do lists and follow them. I am immediate in my responses to requests for assistance, can't leave anything hanging and unresolved. If you want to make me crazy, tell me about your utterly disorganized life. If you're in close enough proximity, I'll probably organize it for you, just to save my sanity. It's all about control, I know.

All that to illustrate my reaction to the current uncertainty. Those who can relinquish control are truly blessed. It's something I must work at and remind myself of every day.

Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, the play is lovely!