Looks like the guy that lives upstairs has suddenly vacated the house. There are odd building supplies strewn around the yard, boxes of trash and old toys sitting on the back porch, and the recycling bin is overflowing. I even got a call from the property managers to confirm that none of it belongs to me before they start clearing things ouch. Yeesh.
I think I'll be following suit myself, actually, and be vacating the property sooner than later. I don't know if it'll be in a month or two, or in the summer when my lease expires. Either way, I'm pretty sure I won't be leaving the same mess behind.
Most things go in boxes. Some things go into other boxes, which will be donated to a non profit organization. Some things get their picture taken and a cheeky writeup, so they can go online for sale. You know, like a personals site, but for all the crap you don't want to see again. And just like a personals site, many an inquirey will be made, several of which will never reply back. Even fewer will make an appointment, and of those, a very small percentage will even show up. Some things will go in the garbage and recycling. And some things go into the fire; simultaneously too good for and not good enough for the garbage.
I actually did that last step this afternoon. I brushed the snow off the back yard firepit (left behind my ex-housemate), pulled up a lawnchair, and torched a some old letters, drawings, and trinkets that once had held some personal meaning. But when these particular type of specimens seem to have an emotional weight that far outmatches their physical properties... Sometimes it's best to know that something has been destroyed versus just discarded.
So there are now fresh ashes in the firepit, and I'm all the better for it.
Surveying my small basement suite, I think I could fully move, start to finish, within a week if I really wanted to. I'm kinda conflicted, though, because I find myself alternating between feeling like I don't have much, and I have entirely too much. Despite my pack rat inclinations, I'm pretty good at not accumulating a lot of junk.
I have an unnecessary plethora of books, though. Coming from a family of readers and librarians, I know the refrain well, "You can never have too many books!" But you can. There are a lot of covers that don't spark any type of excitement, and each one is full of pages I know I'll never ogle. I think I'm getting rid of about half of my collection. It's a lot, but I still wonder if it's not enough. But one thing at a time.
For the past, oh, six to eight months, my girlfriend and I have danced, pranced, and beat around the bush. And let me tell you, despite the well trodden path around it, that shrubbery was in immaculate condition up until we finally brought out the shears a month ago and discussed some hardcore logistics of moving in together. The biggest items of business include where to put my massive desk (it's literally a door laying on desk legs), what furniture we'll need to house my many books, and whether or not I'll be able to keep my Ikea reading chair (you know the one).
Although I've started packing/selling/donating/trashing/burning my various possessions, the major speedbumps are the motorcycle (which can't be moved until it's reassembled) and making space at my girlfriend's condo (she's been sick the last couple weeks). I still have three months on the lease, though, so I can afford to take my time.
The move will be easy. I'm a bit apprehensive about what it'll be like to live with someone, though. And not having a mere roomate, where you can bugger off at your whim with little to know explanation. No, this is going to be living with someone you need to cook with and plan you week around and share TV shows. Someone that's a light sleeper, so no matter how softly you sleep into bed at stupid-early-AM, they will know you were binging on that new game.
I'm sure it'll be fine. But it's a new dynamic I've never experienced before, and I suspect it'll take some getting used to.
What can I say, it's the end of an era. But considering I'll be going from living alone in a cold and dark basement to sharing a second floor condo/townhouse/thing with a lady I love... it looks I'm moving up in the world, in more ways than one.
-Cril
