I don’t necessarily have anything to say, but I do feel obligated to update. Since Paris, I’ve been getting my ducks in a row for a big move to Boston. There’ll be plenty to say about that soon, I’m sure. For now, here’s this: moving sucks.
Going down into the basement, I came to the awful realization that my last packing job was an unmitigated disaster. I’m talking a torn boxes and why-the-fuck-is-everything-covered-in-flour sort of thing. In my flight, I made the mistake of cramming too many skillets and bricks into one big box instead of breaking them down into smaller, more manageable bits. My bad.
After getting that under control, I restacked my towers, got rid of 50 lbs of books (not an exaggeration), and made a list of things that I didn’t get in my half of the “divorce.” Man, couches are expensive. I’m going to buy some floor pillows and go for a zen style. Cataloging is easy, though, and gives me a semblance of control. To be honest, I’m not that anxious about the move. If the trip to Paris taught me anything, it’s to get fucking excited about life, because it’s short. I’m not in mourning anymore either, which is a big win for me. What do I have to be sad about? I’m moving to a popping part of the country, get to be with my best friend, and will be single af throughout it all. Awesome.
How lucky am I when so much of the country is in a state of disaster? I’m adding a link here to help victims of Hurricane Harvey. Americares has its shit together, so please consider donating. For that matter, consider donating to victims of the wildfires out west. And with Hurricane Irma imminent, I recommend getting your generous, charitable pants on, because we aren’t getting through anything if we’re not doing it together. If you’re a Floridian in the plotted Irma path, please leave if you can. My family stayed during Ivan…we wish we hadn’t. Be safe out there, everyone.