My friend Kevin coined the term "limboland" at some point during our first year of college. The word used to make us laugh uproariously - something about the combination of syllables and sounds, coupled with the absurd rightness of the concept as a descriptor of that place that is no place, sent us into spasms of laughter. Of course, such spasms were not uncommon that year.

Now that I am once again approaching that Zen-like state of heightened indolence that might very well be categorized as limboland, the concept is less uproarious. I find myself feeling grateful that there might be a word to describe this place-that-is-not-a-place where I am located. I am on the verge of doing/moving/working/changing but I am not there yet; my present inertia is charged with the knowledge of imminence. Since I have been here before, it is fitting that this spot on the map should have a name. Welcome to Limboland.