Well, I'm sitting in the sunroom, drinking my morning coffee, and really being happy that it's Saturday . . . The thing about teaching online is, I can do it from anywhere, so it often seems like a waste to go in to the office. I have piles of work to do today, but at least I won't spend two hours in the car driving to go do it. (I don't get very much done in the office, either.)

Emma and I appear really to have turned a corner in our relationship. Things have been more than cordial; I would say they've been warm, even. She actually asked to read my dissertation yesterday . . . (of course, I can't find it. Must do some serious tearing-in to boxes this weekend . . . )

And speaking of boxes . . . EB is arriving back from Y'town this weekend (either today or tomorrow) with his father's car, packed to the gills. Just what we need: More stuff.

It's apparent that we have to get rid of stuff, and probably a lot faster than I'd like. Emil's unemployment runs out in 3 1/2 months, and if he doesn't come up with something by then, we will have to move. We can't afford this house on just my income; that much is clear. And if it really happens that we're going to move, it probably makes most sense to move to Lansing (although I'm not entirely convinced of that).

All of which is giving me cold, cold feet. I never thought I'd move again; when we were moving Emil's old computers into this house, I told Charlie, "You're gonna be moving these outta here, you know." (I hear my mother's voice chastening me, "Never say 'never,' because you don't know what life brings." Well, I should have listened . . . ) It feels too soon to undertake this move, which will probably break up the nuke (yes, we're back to that again). Emma will have to go with us, but she won't stay any longer than she has to, I'm sure; and Charlie probably won't even go. I wouldn't feel too bad about Charlie (after all, he's 18), except that he doesn't make enough money really to support himself, so if we move we're immediately complicating his life enormously. (Yes, yes, I know I want him to learn this. But still.) I'm sure everyone will survive and we'll all be fine, but still. I don't want this to be happening . . . It feels like we're saying, "Family's over, folks! Move it along!!" Gaaah.

Oh, well. Maybe Emil will just find a job around here pretty soon. You never can tell what will turn up; there's not much out there at the moment, but it is February, which is not really the nicest month . . . Something might come along tomorrow (or on March 1st!), and in the meantime, we just have to keep thinking and strategizing and planning. And cleaning. (But cleaning under this circumstance makes me sad, so I'll have to pretend that I'm just looking for my dissertation, nothing more . . . )