Well tomorrow is my final day of packing, then I'm outta here! And into a slight variation of "here" costing me about a paycheck but gaining me a good night's sleep so it seems fair all in all.
I'm actually surprised at the dearth (look it up) of crap I have this time around. Oh sure, there's three cubic meteres of Lego, the ten boxes of books and the surpisingly high number of towels I seem to have but they all have their uses and frankly I can't part with any of them. Well, maybe the towels that don't have edges and the odd bleach stain.
As payment for letting him use my vehicle for nefarious purposes (I hope he obscured the license plate) L'il Bro G helped memove in some of the stuff like plants and CDs into the place and commented he liked it better than my current place even though it's bigger. The current place not the new one. I tend to agree and not just because of the reduced noise factor. I tend to get a good "vibe" (or bad one) from an apartment and it's served me in good stead in the past. But because I'm me I tend to distrust those little intuitions and end up making bad decisions. This also extends to things like CD purchases, cars, jobs and girlfriends So I guess the point I'm trying to get at is that I'm going to trust my instincts a bit more.
For example I need to do some work tonight for an appointment I have tomorrow but I am disinclined to do so as I am still stoned from the over-consumption of back-pain medicine taken for my broken (yes I broke it) rib. But my instincts tell me that shrugging this off is a bad idea. Failure to do so will cause me short-term embarrassment and long-term "you fucked up your life"-edness.
But that could also be the drugs talking so who the hell knows?
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