the calm before
Ever since I got back to work last Monday from the fire and moving experience, things have been a little . . . eerie, to say the least. It's oddly quiet around here, and my email box averages 10-12 messages a day (as compared to 60-80, normally).
You know that anxious tense feeling you get in your chest when you're waiting for the other shoe to drop? Yeah.
Anyway, I've reached this weird lull in my moving activities. The fact that I don't have to be out of my old apartment until Oct 31, along with the fact that I've moved everything that I care about on a day to day basis (amazing how the threat of losing everything suddenly reduces the perceived value of most of your possessions — I've been throwing away junk right and left) has left me in the current state of no desire to go back and get the other stuff.
Things still at the old place include:
mountain bike (because I can't figure out where the hell I'll stash it at the new place) patio plants (ditto. Not to mention, I'm procrastinating having to throw away the dead ones.) arcane kitchen stuff (those odd pans and devices you use once every 3 years) musical keyboard (because it's heavy) black bookshelf (ditto) a bunch of stuff I stashed in my closet last time I moved and haven't looked at since. I have no idea what's in one of those boxes. I'm tempted to move it without opening it up, just to keep the mystery alive.
Regardless, the issue of cleaning up the old place is even further on the back burner than finishing moving, so I guess there's always that to look forward to. The thought of having to scrub a bathroom that has about a 50% chance of being re-built from scratch with the rest of the building, in my opinion, gives the word 'futility' a whole new twist.
You know that anxious tense feeling you get in your chest when you're waiting for the other shoe to drop? Yeah.
Anyway, I've reached this weird lull in my moving activities. The fact that I don't have to be out of my old apartment until Oct 31, along with the fact that I've moved everything that I care about on a day to day basis (amazing how the threat of losing everything suddenly reduces the perceived value of most of your possessions — I've been throwing away junk right and left) has left me in the current state of no desire to go back and get the other stuff.
Things still at the old place include:
Regardless, the issue of cleaning up the old place is even further on the back burner than finishing moving, so I guess there's always that to look forward to. The thought of having to scrub a bathroom that has about a 50% chance of being re-built from scratch with the rest of the building, in my opinion, gives the word 'futility' a whole new twist.