September 27th, 2002

default, pepper

Regression

At this point just about the only "knick-knacks"--now defined as "small things that should be carried off in boxes"--are the bathroom supplies and bottles of liquor, oil and vinegar in the kitchen. The stereo is still connected but won't be for much longer--the receiver should be packed up, and tomorrow I'll be leaving for Kim's too early to do that work then. (The plan is for me to drive to his place, leave my car there, and then have him drive me to the U-Haul place out here by my apartment.) So tonight I'll just have the alarm clock radio and internet radio via the PowerBook, and the latter only over the laptop's tiny internal speakers, since other speakers are packed already.

Today's plan is to pack a final odds-and-ends box and to finish doing laundry and finding places to pack up the overflow: the single huge bin assigned to clothes and linens isn't huge enough, but I have a spare box. I've ended up with too many boxes which are essentially "none of the aboves" and one huge box I've dubbed the Big Box of Doom, stacked with small kitchen appliances I'll have to try to rearrange more gracefully, but things have worked out acceptably. Predictably, even. A friend said "you've been packing forever" to me online the other day, and it does feel that way, but I'm probably going to avoid the last-minute packing panic blues. Whether replacing that with constant low-level angst for a month was a fair tradeoff can, of course, be debated.

Right now the apartment looks the way it might if I'd just moved in. No pictures or calendars remain on the walls. Furniture is set up but empty: a CD rack with no CDs, a computer desk with a monitor and a disconnected tower but nothing else, an entertainment center with unused racks. No plates and only plastic utensils, a kitchen in which only the microwave is usable, boxes scattered about and a vacuum cleaner sitting to the side looking as prominent as a floor lamp. A place that could be a home, but isn't yet--or in this case, isn't any longer.

The last few days I've been moving boxes to Kim's, and he's offered to come over to help me move things today. I don't know that I'll have to take him up on that--there is a moving truck coming, after all, and we can move fragile unboxed things--the TV, the computer--in Kim's station wagon tomorrow.

Beyond that, I'm waiting for word from Kelly IT about the Linvatec position. You know I'm ambivalent on that--either way it goes, it'll be fine. (In fact, I'm increasingly suspecting I'm rooting against myself.)
default, pepper

(no subject)

I had everything disconnected but decided to reconnect the TV to watch "Firefly," just to see what it was like. (At least by that episode, it was damn good.) It took me a few minutes to figure out how to re-activate the TV's internal speakers.

The remaining stuff that needs to be packed has been, except for the perishables and the dirty clothes. Probably a few random shuffles of things to make it easy for people to move boxes, and maybe taping up a few more boxes that are still open, although since I'm going to be opening some of these boxes again at Kim's I want to leave them as "untaped" as I can manage. And, oh yes, I haven't done anything with the huge collection of clothes hangars yet. In a few minutes I'll have to disconnect the computer, and of course, the TV (again). I should also get out to the store and get some water for the "moving crew" tomorrow, but I may just get ready for bed and, well, get there.

I debated trying to rouse people for a dinner out, but had my remaining microwave meal here instead. Online I told a friend that I'd have my last meal at home. She thought that sounded pretty final. Well--it is, really, isn't it? It's the closing scene of not just a chapter, but of the current act.

I got the call back from Kelly IT--I got the contract position from Linvatec. I'll start next Thursday, the day after my skin surgery. (They wanted me on that Wednesday, but that'd be problematic, wouldn't it?) I'm abstractly happy. Later I'll be concretely happy, I hope.

Right now, though, I'm just abstractly melancholy. Tonight, walking yet another load of trash out--specifically two old surround speakers, one of which has a short, that I was only using as stands for the real surround speakers--I found myself getting teary-eyed. So much of my stuff is already gone, and so much of what's here--the couch I'm sitting on right now, the coffee table in front of me, the entertainment center in front of that--isn't coming with me. For all of my Zen philosophical musings on being free of material attachments, this is going to be hard.

I expect I'll be online again by Sunday at the latest--quite possibly tomorrow, depending on how things go. Kim's place is already well-wired, so it's just going to be a matter of dropping the wireless router onto his LAN.