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.