I’m going to bore you all to death if I keep this up, and I’m going starey-eyed so I’ll keep this short.
Not done packing. Dreading it even though I want to leave; I don’t know what’s coming and that kind of lowkey terrifies me. Not enough to freak out but enough for a little anxiety to kick in. But I did get some laundry done, and I’ll do the rest tomorrow early enough since I have to do the sheets anyway. Well. Maybe I don’t HAVE to do the sheets, but I’m fucking doing them anyway. Least I can do. May as well throw in the last little bit that’s dirty while I’m at it since I’ll be showering tomorrow too.
Got music onto the phone. I had some random stuff on my laptop that hadn’t been on my car playlist and I swiped some things off YouTube. Didn’t grab as much as I wanted to, but it got tedious after a little while. It’ll have to do. I can add more when I get where I’m going. I still have that FM radio app on my phone, too, so if I get REALLY bored I can try that.
So far, with the big suitcase, I’m nowhere near hitting the fifty-pound weight limit. I don’t think I’m even halfway there. That takes a load off my mind, haha. But I have to make allowance for the laptop, and maybe also the blanket if I can fit it. I’ll just stuff both in right quick to see what that does to the weight and then make decisions from there. The laptop definitely has to go with me. The blanket does not. If Carrie wants to keep it, great; if she says she’ll send it, that’s fine too. I’m good either way. I put a lot of work into that thing, but she gave me a safe place to stay til I could launch and I didn’t have to tiptoe around my father anymore. That’s priceless. It almost matches the sheet set on this twin bed, too. Did not see that coming.
I think I am going to be militantly curating my possessions from here on out because managing this shit is too much when I have to keep moving. I do not know when I will stop having to fucking move.
I’ve had a lot more than that on my mind but this whole 2.5-year experience has left me doing the death-march thing of metaphorically staring down at the ground as I walk, one foot in front of the other, just focusing on where I am because I can’t even think about the future anymore. So where I would normally be boring the shit out of you by going into a long philosophical ramble about various things… nah. A cannae be fucked, as the Scots would say. Maybe later.
Okay. Time to depress myself with that fucking luggage scale. Whee!
P.S. I was right about that old micro SD card. Deader than dogshit. Getting the new one was a good call.