I think my hardest job right now is learning how to spell “judgment” correctly. It’s not even the title I wanted for my lousy novel… Everything there is just one, huge placeholder for a project I can’t seem to return to. So I’m sorry for the error on Friday and, here during a rare moment where I have my wits, I corrected the problem in scheduled entries. Now…if I can only correct the weak story!
Beyond that, my life is about moving. A better location, a better rent, and happier times…once I get my life out of boxes and organized. Week two of unpacking a world of nostalgia and sentimental heirlooms that, in the end, should all be trashed.
I hate moving. I guess everyone does. These last few years, I’ve found myself getting more domestic, more addicted to the routine. Changing locations isn’t a problem…it’s the unorganized mess of my life that really makes me hate moving. Stumbling over boxes, a stubbed toe the requirement if you want to take a piss, perched with a pile of black bags behind me as I try to work at the computer. And, with every baby step towards getting things in their place, a sense that it’ll never end… At least until I’ve gone mad, or wrenched my back out once and for all.
So…thank god for rum! And, until I get myself sorted, it’ll be all the recycled stuff for now. And Cass! Enjoy…