you know what this means? it means i have to make brownies, now.
all moved in, at new apartment across the hall.
woke up this morning (some time past noon) with a sense of panic and mulish resistance against carrying it all the way through.
yesterday, running on two hours of sleep that mostly felt like i was hallucinating, and having talked to a counselor who gave me the first useful piece of advice i've had in, oh, forever, i came into the new apartment instead of going back to bed.
the couch was red and giant and where my bed should be, lit with late afternoon sun that made the dark yellow walls glow, and the carpet was still damp from shampoo and empty of any other furniture, open space painted with bars of sunlight clean and simple and wide and i ... i sat. for a long time.
then i started to move the couch, the fridge, the kitchen table, my clothes, just little things, because i couldn't stop moving, and physical labor is sometimes therapeutic.
but eventually the sun went all the way down and the walls didn't glow under ordinary light bulbs and the colors were wrong and the angles were wrong and didn't make sense and i retreated back to my wonderfully fake blue print little couch in the old apartment.
sly's flying off to boston & ny tomorrow, however, so we did actually have to move in all the way, and i have neither an excuse to go back or the amenities to sustain my stay.
was feeling strangely fragile about being left alone in a new place that doesn't feel like home yet (am i getting old and set in my ways? yuck.) but my mother has moved in for the weekend due to conveniently timed family drama. am in that bizarre comforted-yet-irritated-beyond-belief state that only mothers everywhere are capable inducing.
(about that: i've been trying to write about real life in a non-vague way that actually lets people know what the hell is going on, and it's in a nice little Word file called 'truth' and...it's hard. it's not ready yet. but someday? in the mean time, i avoid talking because it ends up being unsettlingly emo, or strangely stilted verse. it's easier to touch on surface things like fandom, when i find the time.)
i'm going to miss being woken up by the sun and comforted about having to be awake. i'm going to miss the first real home i made for myself away from my parents, that has been sheltering me when i can't go back to them. i'm going to miss my awkwardly exploding wall and bathroom with a door in it that leads to the balcony but is avoided in favor of a window in the living room, and how everything that needed to could magically fit somewhere. all the good times, the bad times, and especially the unaccountably "Ummm...what??" times.
possibly most of all, i will miss the two-person-sofa-that-can-apparently-fit-ten being a black hole of debauchery. ETA: went back to look it over one last time and discoveredacondomunderthecushionsthati'mprettysureisn'tmine. ummm...what?
woke up this morning (some time past noon) with a sense of panic and mulish resistance against carrying it all the way through.
yesterday, running on two hours of sleep that mostly felt like i was hallucinating, and having talked to a counselor who gave me the first useful piece of advice i've had in, oh, forever, i came into the new apartment instead of going back to bed.
the couch was red and giant and where my bed should be, lit with late afternoon sun that made the dark yellow walls glow, and the carpet was still damp from shampoo and empty of any other furniture, open space painted with bars of sunlight clean and simple and wide and i ... i sat. for a long time.
then i started to move the couch, the fridge, the kitchen table, my clothes, just little things, because i couldn't stop moving, and physical labor is sometimes therapeutic.
but eventually the sun went all the way down and the walls didn't glow under ordinary light bulbs and the colors were wrong and the angles were wrong and didn't make sense and i retreated back to my wonderfully fake blue print little couch in the old apartment.
sly's flying off to boston & ny tomorrow, however, so we did actually have to move in all the way, and i have neither an excuse to go back or the amenities to sustain my stay.
was feeling strangely fragile about being left alone in a new place that doesn't feel like home yet (am i getting old and set in my ways? yuck.) but my mother has moved in for the weekend due to conveniently timed family drama. am in that bizarre comforted-yet-irritated-beyond-belief state that only mothers everywhere are capable inducing.
(about that: i've been trying to write about real life in a non-vague way that actually lets people know what the hell is going on, and it's in a nice little Word file called 'truth' and...it's hard. it's not ready yet. but someday? in the mean time, i avoid talking because it ends up being unsettlingly emo, or strangely stilted verse. it's easier to touch on surface things like fandom, when i find the time.)
i'm going to miss being woken up by the sun and comforted about having to be awake. i'm going to miss the first real home i made for myself away from my parents, that has been sheltering me when i can't go back to them. i'm going to miss my awkwardly exploding wall and bathroom with a door in it that leads to the balcony but is avoided in favor of a window in the living room, and how everything that needed to could magically fit somewhere. all the good times, the bad times, and especially the unaccountably "Ummm...what??" times.
possibly most of all, i will miss the two-person-sofa-that-can-apparently-fit-ten being a black hole of debauchery. ETA: went back to look it over one last time and discoveredacondomunderthecushionsthati'mprettysureisn'tmine. ummm...what?