It's official. I moved.
What a bitch of a week. I want a cow to fall from the sky and land on the desk right here in front of me. I think that's the ONLY thing that would surprise me right now. I wouldn't even be surprised if the cow talked, it would have to actually crash thru the cieling in order to startle me.
All week has been planning and building up to tonight. I'm so burnt out right now. And I always get in a wierd funk when I leave an apartment for the last time anyway. Going around a million times to make sure I haven't forgotten anything, vacuuming up every last hair, remembering every single thing that happened involving every single object I touch as I shove it into a box and toss it into my poor lil car. It's such an overload, and then, I drop the keys on the counter, and walk out, and lock the door behind me, and it stops. No more going back for boxes. No going in and crashing for the night. It's done. The inside of that building just doesn't exist anymore. This move was especially rough, I think, because nearly none of those memories was fun. I had a lot of long nights at that apartment. A lot of cigarettes. A lot of drinks. Not a lot of company. I think I only ever showed 6 people where it was, and out of them only 3 ever came inside. Ah well, fuck it, I'm outta there. The place was fuckin haunted anyway, of that I'm sure. I couldn't walk from one end to the other without feeling an intense need to look over my shoulder, right up to this very night. It was real creepy.
The new apartment will be good. Having a roommate will be nice. I'm tired of cleaning and packing tho. I'd do anything for a back massage and a long bike ride right now, but I don't foresee either of those things happening in the immediate future. I guess I'll just catch 3 hours of sleep before I have to get up, instead. I'm gonna be worthless at work tomorrow... er, today...
All week has been planning and building up to tonight. I'm so burnt out right now. And I always get in a wierd funk when I leave an apartment for the last time anyway. Going around a million times to make sure I haven't forgotten anything, vacuuming up every last hair, remembering every single thing that happened involving every single object I touch as I shove it into a box and toss it into my poor lil car. It's such an overload, and then, I drop the keys on the counter, and walk out, and lock the door behind me, and it stops. No more going back for boxes. No going in and crashing for the night. It's done. The inside of that building just doesn't exist anymore. This move was especially rough, I think, because nearly none of those memories was fun. I had a lot of long nights at that apartment. A lot of cigarettes. A lot of drinks. Not a lot of company. I think I only ever showed 6 people where it was, and out of them only 3 ever came inside. Ah well, fuck it, I'm outta there. The place was fuckin haunted anyway, of that I'm sure. I couldn't walk from one end to the other without feeling an intense need to look over my shoulder, right up to this very night. It was real creepy.
The new apartment will be good. Having a roommate will be nice. I'm tired of cleaning and packing tho. I'd do anything for a back massage and a long bike ride right now, but I don't foresee either of those things happening in the immediate future. I guess I'll just catch 3 hours of sleep before I have to get up, instead. I'm gonna be worthless at work tomorrow... er, today...