I Hate My Stuff

I stumbled across a poll question on another blog a few days ago: "What advice do you have for people about to move?" Because I was about to move, I surveyed the responses. A good 10% of them were one word answers: "Don't." I have been reminded why someone would be moved (oy, pardon the pun) to give such advice.

I suppose as moves go, this one wasn't so bad. Although it's far from over. But I have a bed set up. I have a working computer atop a desk precariously perched on partially assembled bookshelves (which wobble dangerously with every keystrike). I have a relatively clean bathroom and, as of 5:00 this afternoon, I have a towel and even curtains (which I'm praying will keep out the glare of the alley lights tonight). So I guess I should consider myself ahead of the game.

I promise to post again when I have something else on my mind besides the pile of boxes outside my door and the piles of clothes spread throughout various bags, drawers, and shelves in the apartment. I think I can, I think I can, I... think... I... can.