We have too much.

And still not enough. It's the fucking curse of this shitty culture that I wish I could rise above. The need to hang on to material objects, it's just gross. And yet here we are. Unpacking and find places for everything should be the enjoyable part, after the tedium of packing and a torture of moving, but for the life of me, I can't seem to do it. My mind wanders. And if it doesn't wander, it panics. This week, I have had two panic attacks. Real ones, not imaginary or "flip outs" but full on hands-shaking-can't-breathe-can't-speak panic attacks. Thankfully I have a very small stash of Kolonopin for these sorts of occasions, and they happen so infrequently that I almost forget that they used to be something I dealt with almost daily in my younger years. It's fucking exhausting. Coping mechanisms from twelve years ago no longer apply, so I am left flapping in the wind.

I am glad that I am not the only person living here, and that the other one is better at unpacking and getting settled than I am.

All the changes in the past months are catching up to me, physically. This new diet is sad and boring. I am more tired than ever before, which sucks because a part of me thought getting rid of all the FUN parts of my diet would at least make me feel better, clearer, SOMETHING. But instead, I still feel the acid, only slightly less, and I am tired all the time. I miss coffee. A LOT. I miss beer. A LOT. I've had a few since this all started, and it seems like if I have only one, I am alright, but not always. I miss tomatoes and iced coffee and lemonade. YOU KNOW, THE JOYS OF SUMMER. And I am reading different things, that tell me to stay away from tea, but then tea is okay, I DON'T KNOW. I am going to have start keeping a food diary again and perhaps a self-imposed elimination diet.

I have a Pretty Things burning a hole in my fridge. Damn it.

IN OTHER NEWS, Kiki is adjusting to her new home. After we lost our Roocat, Kiki still maintained the status quo in the litter box, keeping her pee to the back left, and her poop to the back right. She was stressed during moving day and the day after, not sure what the hell was going on, but once she got it in her head that this was her new home, and it was just her, all of the sudden she is doing whatever wherever she wants in the box. Poop in the front left, pee in the back right, mixing it up. She seems to have it figured out now, that it's all her, and only her. Quite frankly, I think she is pleased, as she loves to be the Queen Bean.

Oh yes, the move itself went smoothly. We had help from wonderful friends who made the day that much better for us. We were so thankful and lucky to have the help.

I guess I will try to unpack at least one whole box now. Thanks for reading my pointless thoughts. Happy weekend

Hello, June.

We have begun the moving process. It's all very tedious. We have been painting the new place, and the color scheme is perfect. It's taking a little while, since we are painting everything: the trim, the walls, the ceilings, the cabinets. And then there is the bathroom, which I am scraping. Scraping five layers of paint off turquoise tiles. It HAS to be done. Who the fuck paints over tiles? Assholes, that's who.

It's a ton of work, but we both know that it's 100% worth it, and when we are finally settled in July, we will take a day to sleep in.

I have only barely begun to pack. That's the part that I get stuck on. It's so hard to not go through shit while boxing it up. I feel compelled to flip through every photo album and journal I pick up. This is time consuming, and sometimes upsetting, especially because there are pictures of Roo everywhere.

And that brings me to the other weird feelings. I keep thinking that I am somehow leaving the ghost of my cat behind. Not that I think Roo is haunting the apartment, but it's so easy to glance out to the porch and see her sitting there still, in the sun spot, licking the wood. When we move, I will look out to a porch that she has never been on, and never will get to see. It's good and bad, I guess. We need to move on, we've outgrown our place and crave a new a neighborhood, but I will miss the floors, the trees, the birds, and seeing my beloved girl in all her favorite spots. I wonder how Kiki feels about everything. I wish she could tell me with words.



I am choked up at work now. Awesome.
and with that, I'm out.