Misc.

That was the label Mom would scrawl neatly in print on the sides of boxes or bag she was packing for storage. It took me a while to learn what "misk" meant; until then, as a child I would go dancing aimlessly through the house singing to myself, "misk, misk, a box of misk..."

I was a strange child.

So I cleaned my storage locker out today. My friend Lisa needed my couch and bed for her new apartment for the time being, and the bills were draining me, so we cleaned it out. In the rain. And the cold. Did I mention the cold rain? It was worthy of Hemingway. Natasha, I'm thinking of you and your brilliant Hemingway parody a few eons back. But I'm too tired to go through your archives right now.

Now most of my stuff is residing with my actual self, and oh dear God it's so good to have my books back! *kisses boxes, wipes dust off lips* I don't have that much in the way of earthly possessions, and once I sit down to it I will be able to throw a lot of stuff away, that I couldn't have done before I moved because I had. no. gumption. Well, I've got gumption now, and there's a whole lotta crap that's just begging to hit the shredder. It's so zen.

But I'm tired now, so I'll cut this short before my coherence stops cohering.