October, you’re interesting already. The marathon is in six days and I have worried 10,000 times about getting run over by a car, someone sneezing in my general direction, listening to music so much that I get sick of sound, eating, eating, eating and eating. JUST TODAY. My friend and co-worker is moving to Texas, so I’ve spent the majority of today looking over resumes and e-mails. They all give me a headache. I wish there was a filter button to sort the top resumes from the rest. And yes, I know there’s supposed to be that accented e, but… I’m not done yet.
Posts Tagged: moving
Sometimes, I don’t know about me. I ended up going to Target around 9:45 last night, which was probably not the best idea. In my exhaustion, I left a bag there; coincidentally, it was the bag that contained vital showering materials so that in the morning I could feel like a human. I passed out on my couch amidst the mess and when my alarm went off at 5am this morning, I became aware of two things: 1. I could not move. I was insanely sore. 2. Even if I could have gotten up, nothing was unpacked. Finding anything to… I’m not done yet.
It’s currently 9pm. My new place is a mess, and I don’t feel like doing a goddamn thing. I’m updating from my phone (again); did I mention there’s no internet til Wednesday? Here’s the short version: I woke up for no reason at 3:30am, went to work, came home at noon, movers came, movers moved, I went back to clean the old apartment after all was said and done, I just got back now. Here’s the longer version: When I am old, I can taunt youngins with, “When I was your age, I had to move from one place to… I’m not done yet.
Tonight is my last night in my current apartment. And I must admit, I feel a little weird about it. For all of the bitching and headache that planning the move has been, and for all of the reasons I have for moving… it doesn’t necessarily feel real. Most of that, I’d guess, is due to the fact that this one is entirely on my own. I’m not moving my TV (what?) and my internet won’t be set back up until Wednesday. In essence, I’m going into the prison-less equivalent of “the hole”. I really have no idea what I… I’m not done yet.
“Just keep swimming.” – Dori, Finding Nemo I found Beattie’s book. It was on my chair in plain sight. Whatever. Timely, too, that I opened it up. On the last day of May, she writes, “‘What if’s’ can make us crazy… [make us wonder] whether we can trust ourselves…” I do the “what if” game all of the time. But, I’m trying to let it go. I find that it’s a very fine line between not caring about the decisions I make as an excuse to do things I shouldn’t do, and to not worry and trust myself. I told… I’m not done yet.