Moving

I'm moving!! I started packing today. Granted it's only a few miles from where I live now, but it's a few miles north, which, since I happen to live in Michigan, is a good thing. Okay, I admit, the packing and unpacking is NOT as glamorous as it sounds. (Who said anything about it EVER being glamorous, you ask)? Yes, you're quite right. Except that when I am loading boxes, I always unload my old boxes... you know, for reorganization. SO, I am seeing many of my belongings for the first time since I moved in with my cousins 2 years ago!

I appreciate more how unnecessary anything is that sits in a box for 2 years. Hmmmm..... let's see. There's the wall-hanging wooden thermometer/barometer. Always interesting to get an accurate indoor weather forecast. Oh, it's only 67 degrees in here.... time to get out a blanket and put on a sweater. I mean, that's not something I would figure out if I did not have a temperature gauge. Oh shit! It seems cold! What should I do?

Then there's the Trivial Pursuit Wedges that are scattered among something like, oh, 16 boxes. I think I'll leave them there and reorganize at the next move.

Oh, and the Oprah VHS tape on weight loss that my mom mailed to me...... seven years ago. (I know this because she writes the title in huge capital letters and dates it - OPRAH - WEIGHT LOSS 9/15/02). And that's about the ultimate compliment, isn't it? To be referred to only by your first name? Of course, how many Oprahs can there be? It would be funny if I watched the tape (sorry, mom) and some physicist prof named Oprah Williams is lecturing on chemical compounds and change in mass vs. energy. I think I would bust a nut. Still, I would like for someone I don't know to refer to me by my first name and for everyone to know who the hell I am. Preferably, this would not be related to any infamous criminal charge or act of stupidity. I'd really rather not be associated with dribbling food on one's shirt at a restaurant. "Psst.... dude..... your shirt, man...... don't be a Don!"

And did I mention the clothes? Three crates full of shit I always think I'm going to fit back into someday? A long sleeve blue thermal shirt - the ones that cling to your body like rubber. I could barely pull it off ten years ago, during the height of the grunge era. Now, well, have you ever tried to stuff a butternut squash into a tube sock? You get the picture. I think I should give up on that one. Still, there's plenty else - little jeans, t-shirts old enough to now be "cool retro", jackets and coats. You name it I've got it.

Anyways, this is a good opportunity for me. I never like things to get stale, and though this is only one small step on a HUGE staircase, I am hoping it will keep me invigorated and motivated. Haha balls to the wall!