I am now thinking, in a pretty conclusive way, that merely talking about moving to Bali might be much preferable to actually doing so. In the talk there is excitement and anticipation, and all sorts of other positive and quite harmless angles, whereas there is only sweat and stress in the doing.
Somehow our house must be totally vacated and swept clean by February 6th--and it appears to me at this point that this can only come about by a direct act of God. Where is the hurricane, where is the tornado, where is the earthquake when needed? I'll bet that if I were Moses, these things would be conveniently at hand.
In the meanwhile everything in Bali itself is at ready--the accommodations, the hotel, the house, the friends and the neighbors, the beds and the bed clothing. Lacking only is our presence.
Can it really be that I will find myself on a tropical beach within the next week, a world away from the congested wreck that now serves as my abode? No, it is surely still, and forever a dream.