2003-06-06

1:07 a.m.

My sore throat has given me this brand new voice. The voice of a man actually.

I didn�t get the help I thought I would get packing this evening. I didn�t ask for it though. But it�s only because we got caught up watching the movie awards and I overheard stuff about having to work tomorrow and being tired and I didn�t think it would be a good time to bring up the packing.

So I am going to complete the move alone tomorrow. I am so sick of packing and moving everything in my tiny car I could just � I don�t know � take a nap. And I have to re-move this stuff again next week. The second round of moving will probably see more cuts from the ol� �hodpodge�s stuff� team if you know what I am saying.

K and I had a good chuckle about the guilt of objects. I was holding some supersmall coffee cups my mother got for me several Christmases ago. They are decorated in a moon and sun mosaic tile pattern and have never, ever housed a beverage � not even the quick sip of water to take a pill or dump on the cat. I have never been able to give them away because I think it will hurt my mother (the same woman that I�ve lied to, stolen from, and cursed at for most of my life). But these cups have reached the five-move threshold. No amount of guilt can stand up to that pressure.

I am trying to think if I would be upset knowing that someone threw away a gift I gave them. I guess once it leaves your hands it�s their business. I�ve heard stories about people finding out their gifts resale value on ebay.

Packing and moving. Yuck. If I hate stuff so much why am I always packing it and moving it around from place to place?

D�s place is too scary � this is night number three I think. I have to stay up super late until I pass out from nighttime cold medicine. Houses are scarier than apartments because the house stands alone. Kind of like how the country can be scarier than the city. But I am staying with an attack cat so I should be ok eventually.

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