Put on your slippers and sit by the fire
The theme of my days, since classes ended, has been one of figuring out what to pack, what to transport, what to give away, what to give up on. As ever, the pace of this started out pretty nicely, with bags full of junk going from storage locker to garbage bin or the like, particularly when it could be something impressively bulky like the videotapes of stuff in the 90s that I wanted to record that I know I'm never going to get back to. Somewhere in there are minor personal moments, like the various Late Night with Conan O'Brien shows whose taping I attended, but really, I know better than to think I'll recover them, or that many will particularly care.
As the deadline to move --- it's this week --- approaches the amount of easy work diminishes, alas, and I look harder at books I enjoyed or things I'd picked up from the places I've lived and decide, do I really want this curious bit of the detritus of my life? Books I refer to a lot, things I use a lot, that's easy; it's the marginal cases that are hard, and don't think I'm not also worrying about how every carton of things is another chance to worry bunny_hugger about how we're supposed to fit this into the merged households.
Well, it's decision-making, and the hard kind, and I admit I've started getting on a short temper about it. Everyone's volunteering to help, and asking what they can do to help, and that's sweet, but the work is one of deciding what I want enough to bring with me, and that's not something I can give out. I snapped at my mother last night when all she did was comment on how I was taking stuff out of some boxes and throwing most of it away. I'm glad this is going to be over soon; it brings out my stressful, unhappy side.
Trivia: An errant V-1 flying bomb crashed directly onto Adolph Hitler's command bunker at Margival on 17 June 1944, during the only visit he made to France throughout the Battle of Normandy. Source: The Second World War, John Keegan.
Currently Reading: Strange Relations, Philip José Farmer. It's actually a compilation tome, with the novel version of ``The Lovers'', and also Flesh --- which has an amusing dated-by-following-events where a thousand years hence there's a game descended from baseball between the New York Giants and the Washington Senators (or, well, descendant organizations) --- on top of Strange Relations proper.