Movin' On Up...To The Asylum

[Did I make a mistake in committing to move in under two weeks from a standing start? Even though it's only three blocks away, the gettings-things-there is turning out to be the challenging part. I'm hoping Dad won't mind lending out his truck the next few evenings. I just forgot to ask...]

[Everything's like that right now, and That Old Devil Procrastination hasn't helped one bit. To focus the "what gets stored, what is kept" job (I'm going to have much less room to call my own - the decrease in rent is so worth it), I sat down and made a Grand Inventory of Everything I Own (not the Bread song, and even less Boy George's cover version), and marked "keep," "store," "throw out," or "give away" next to each item, plus an area for Notes because you know I couldn't let an opportunity like this go by without smart remarks.]

[(Oh, by the way, the only things I had to sell were CDs; I just got back from Amoeba Records with a grand whoppin' total of $37.00. !!! First, why was I surprised at how many CDs I couldn't part with for sentimental reasons when my stated goal was to get rid of all of them? Lesson: don't set goals. Then, picky profit-obsessed folks at Amoeba wouldn't take three-fourths of the rest because there was a dust fleck or it was some title that wouldn't sell or something. What do THEY know about what won't sell? Some lucky indigent's gonna pick up that CD single of "Hippychick" by Soho at the Goodwill and who'll be laughin' then, huh, Amoeba?)]

[I didn't itemize books or music, nor did I do clothes, and the list comes to five pages, one column single-spaced, Times New Roman, 10-point. Should it have been more? Less? Anyway, most of it goes into storage, a lot goes to the Lucky Goodwill Shopper, and the rest I still lug around. Good-bye, 5-CD carousel. We never did get to have that party where I'd pick the five absolute perfect CDs for the occasion, hit shuffle, and Make Hospitality Magic. Adios, weird bent-aluminum-and-raffia waving-figure candlestick, one of my mother's few missteps in trying to shop when on vacation to match my vague idea of decor that I've kept all these years because She's My Mother, who probably had one too many mai-tais when she bought it and doesn't even remember giving it to me and wow neurotic. The Hello Kitty toaster oven, though: can New Roommate (pseudonym later) fit it into his kitchen? The agony!]

[Moving is stressful. And the sky is blue. At least I'm not getting rid of my car, trying to quit smoking and hosting a Very Important Out-of-Town Guest for a long anticipated weekend at the same time. That would be too much. As it is, it's almost too much. And it's past time I got on with it... (Oh, Jhames? By the way, speaking of you, I ran into Chriso and Ryan at Amoeba. They admitted they're stalking me since the Castro Street Fair incident. Chriso took two CDs off my hands that the @$%#%&!! record store wouldn't touch - good ones, too, one of which I bet they don't see every day. Grrrr.)]

[Later: I had a pretty bad night last night with moving stress and other stuff. But I did find my passport, thought to be long gone months ago. I hadn't replaced it because, hey, what's the point? Renting a car to drive to the Russian River is the idea of extravagant travel for this loser. This has kind of been my mindset during this move, chipper clever blogging to the contrary.]

[Leah's delivering via C-section today. I hope she and the baby are OK.]

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