Dinner tonight was quinoa pasta with hot dogs, salsa and ketchup: the
At any rate, that was my reward for finally getting to the real business of packing. I woke up bright and chipper at 8 a.m., rolled back over and slept until 10, and finally got myself showered and dressed by 11 to have at it with the boxing of my apartment. Woo! That's motivated!
Twelve hours, a lot of grunting, and a trip to Home Depot for more boxes later, if we look at one side of my room, it looks like I'm pretty darn close to being completely packed. The closet is empty except for a few things I'll be driving with me and some to-be-shredded paperwork, the bookshelves are mostly-bare, the wine stand/bar thingy no longer is covered in glassware.
Looks great, doesn't it? I feel so accomplished.
And then we turn around and look at the other half of my apartment.
Fuck. That kitchen's going to be a pain in the ass.
Six days until the house-cooling party and loading of my wordly possessions into a relocube. Less than two weeks left in San Francisco.
What the hell am I doing to myself?