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More Bitching About Moving 2004-07-03, 7:17 p.m. I'm never going to plan a 500-mile move on three weeks' notice by myself ever again. The next time I move any kind of distance, it will be planned well in advance, somebody else will foot the bill, and it will hopefully be with another person in tow. Because OH MY GOD, this sucks. I'm tired of indoor camping – I have one of those butterfly chairs, my computer, a small TV, and an Aerobed in my apartment, and that's about it. I have one pot, one spoon, a box of plastic cutlery, and a big-ass package of paper plates. There are empty Sonic cups all over the place, because when the only food you have is a half-empty bottle of balsamic vinegar and some really gross Mueslix-y cereal, you tend to eat a lot of to-go chicken wraps, Taco Bell bean burritos, and Lean Cuisine box meals. I even used the Old Spice shower gel that belongs to T this morning because I've got to make the current bar of Honey, I Washed The Kids last all of next week because like hell am I taking a half-used bar of precious Lush soap with me. Moving makes people crazy. I know this to be fact. I've thrown away dozens of giant trash bags filled with stuff I don't need, and I've given dozens of bags full of clothes to Goodwill, and several boxes of books that I don't wish to read again to the library system here. I'm moving to a much smaller apartment with very little kitchen space, and most of my meals will be courtesy of my employer, so I just don't need fifty Rubbermaid and Tupperware containers of various sizes. Nobody needs that many plastic containers, come to think of it. I've parted ways with my mismatched bath towels from my college years, dishtowels that have been accidentally set on fire or soaked in marinara sauce and are completely unsuitable for use, and a very bizarre collection of plastic bar cups that don't fit into my current cabinets, much less the teeny cabinet space I'll have in the new place. I got rid of my 9th grade shop project – a wooden cube that I used as a TV stand ever since then. I threw away old (and dumb) art projects, shoeboxes filled with valuable relics like ticket stubs and wine corks left over from old relationships, and college grade reports. But I kept all of my Bad Teen Short Stories because they are fucking hilarious and should be published for the world to mock. And I kept a blurry photo of the first guy I ever loved. I kept a lot of things, and I can't explain why I got rid of so much sentimental crap and why I am hanging onto an old fleece jacket from drumline in college, or why I'm keeping the box filled with stuffed tigers, but these decisions weren't difficult, and maybe it means I'm growing up a little and that I'm finally able to let go of a lot of things and a lot of people from the past. And instead of vacuuming up the mountains of cat hair, scrubbing the grody things out of the bathtub, or soaking the broiler pan with Dawn Power Dissolver, I am watching lots of movies that are on my TiVo and catching up with friends I haven't seen in months. I'm drinking a lot, I finished making a bright pink scarf that will look awesome with my black wool coat, I've been sitting on the deck reading, and I might even venture to the pool tomorrow, big fat ass and all. I'm going to baseball games, listening to Summer of Fun soundtracks that I got in the mail, and reading magazines when they arrive instead of two months later. I think this relaxing lifestyle is the cousin for me, and I cannot wait to get out of here and see how it fits when I'm in back in Illinois where I belong.
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