God help me, I've signed on for a second day a week at the ROM for the month of February, and probably March as well. Sadly, I never heard back from Larry about the TA thing, so, there's really nothing I can do about it. I'm about to become severely restricted in a financial sort of way because Seneca screwed up. When I got my loan, the school was supposed to withdraw my owing tuition before the money ever reached my bank account. Naturally, this did not happen, which means that a month and a half later, I get a letter saying I am overdue and pay IMMEDIATELY. Like it's my fault. Yeesh. At least I hung onto the money rather than fritter it away. I just knew something of this sort would happen.

Now I really can't quit this horrible job the way I'd intended to. Bah.

Al and Carrie's is a pretty good spot, if a little far from everything, like restaurants, and pizzarias and pubs and whatnot. Oh well. At least there's water pressure and heat - too much heat, perhaps, but heat nonetheless. I don't know if Nick has given his landlord notice yet, but as my body is still screaming about Wednesday's physical activities, I'm in no mood to move again just yet. Mid-March would be lovely. Anyway, I'll talk to him later, or when I retrieve my phone from Heretic where I left it yesterday.

What else, what else? Oh, well, I will write about my moving day adventures later tonight, hopefully from my own sweet computer (ahh, Natasha, how I do miss you...). Another adventure that is coming up will be me doing laundry at the appartment building tonight. Good clean fun. I'm not sure it's going to be fun, so let me rephrase that as 'good clean... clothes'.

I moved. In many hours. Many hours. I would like, very much, to thank Ryan for being the most awesome and over-reaching friend I've ever had. Thanks. Carrie is no slouch either, and today, a day later, Rick has been a help too.

I will tell you all my adventures tomorrow when, hopefully, the muscles that never existed before yesterday will have stopped cursing me out.

Ack ! Moving, moving, moving ! I think the last pile of stuff is just going to have to get stuffed into boxes and I'll hope for the best. Good luck, me ! Thank you.

Well, my appointment was yesterday, but the receptionist was very nice and scheduled me for the earliest appointment available - two weeks from now, but whatever. Packing has reached a plateau, unfortunately. You see, packing kitchenware SUCKS. Aside from being tedious, it's filthy-making. No matter how hard I scrub my hands, the nasty newsprint makes my skin grey and often almost black. There's residual yuck on me right now. I've also run out of newsprint so I have to go out (which isn't a bad idea anyway) and look for a pile of free weeklies that would rather give up their information-bearing life for a life in a box, crumpled around dishes that don't really deserve such care. Come on, a plastic goblet with a fish in its stem?

Holy shit ! I've SEEN the Tartan Terrors ! They performed quite boisterously at the Ontario Rennaisance Festival in Milton. They DID ROCK. And they were hysterically funny. And irreverant. And definitely not wearing underwear. Flash zone, indeed.

Oh crap. I think my Dr.'s appointment was yesterday. Damn.

Oh my goodness ! The Tartan Terrors sounded like they blew up at the end, which also ROCKED. Then the radio announcer said, when the thumping and stomping ended, "Well, I can safely say I know what is worn under a kilt." To which the bagpiper replied, "Just boots !" Then one of the female members said as she started to talk, "Hey, I did warn you that you were in the FLASH zone."

Cool.

I'm sitting in a wicked mess, which I just described to my friend Nicky in an email, but will repeat for the sake of my peanut gallery. Surrounding me are boxes, boxes, milk crates, boxes and cardboard of all sorts of durability. The dust buffalo have begun their migration across the house, heading to greener pastures in other rooms. It's really quite amazing how many buffalo have left the great plains of Justin's closet; hundreds. Soon they will be joined by the herd below my bed and for a day they will roam free before the colonising vacuum people will wipe them out.

I am in desperate need of a shower, my skin has been lovingly coated with the offspring of dust bunnies, so tiny I don't even notice how filthy I am until I wash my face. I had the windows open all day yesterday in order to keep the air fresh but today it is a good deal more cold and I would find the outside air quite... uncomfortable, especially as I sweat my way through packing.

Last night I worked until the wee hours, though I also was on the MUD. I found the happiest medium ever: pack, emote, pack, emote, emote, pack, pack, pack, emote. The roleplay wasn't bad, though a little tough to draw out since we were all in the wrong headspaces. It was necessary, though, in order to distract me from my sadness, and then, suddenly, I looked up and realised I'd gotten a lot done. My mood is greatly improved now that the inevitability of the move is upon me, and with so much done, I feel it's possible to complete. Especially with this rousing bagpipe/drum music happening on the radio ! Holy ! They call themselves the Tartan Terrors and they're ROCKING ! I wish I could see the kilts. *cough*

Maya: Darker than the average pink. <------------ My new descriptive tag line.

Now that the night has passed the hour of witching, by some good deal, I've got to report some half decent success with packing. One bookshelf has been emptied entirely, and cleaned. It's shelves have been pulled out and is now but a skeleton of its former glory. The other two await the same fate, though they are now mostly covered in miscellany that I haven't figured out where to pack, yet. My CDs took some thought, as since the last time they were moved, I had a good deal fewer. I count something close to 120, which isn't actually a lot, compared to, say, Nick. When you realise that my 90-CD tower was about half filled when I moved in here two years ago, and I've been on something of a fixed income (that is to say, quite low), it is a lot of music. They mostly all fit into the box in which I'd gotten my scanner, though it is MUCH too heavy for me to use with the handle that comes attached. Who knew that music could be so weighty?

Now I must go to bed. Packing must begin bright and early, and then I must hie me to the migraine specialist, and then with clothing to Al and Carrie's. I wonder if they have an outer key for the appartment building ready yet. I will ask them. Hm, I should have thought to ask much earlier in the day. Oh well. Anyway, my headache has passed, which leads me to believe that it was due to a lack of water and food today. Probably more the water, since I haven't been hydrating as much as I ought. Fancy. I have since drunk three glasses of water, so I guess I'll be okay. Whew, good thing; I'm only half done packing !

Wow, I had no idea how much crap I have. You know, looking at three bookshelves that are crammed with books (hundreds of them) and toys of all description, it doesn't actually look like so much stuff, but I've already filled six milk crates, plus two carboard boxes of similar capacity (a bit more for each). I still have five shelves that need packing, plus the tops of the cases. I don't think I have enough boxes.

I have taken down all my art, to my horror, tearing the corner of my lovely Star Wars poster. I have a lot of stuff that isn't art still on my walls, like my calendar (well, it's of Monet so it's sort of art), my full length mirror, my hats, and a light sabre. I must be crazy. I need to learn how not to be a pack rat. This is insanity. And I've got a wicked headache. Everything seems a little too bright - a very bad sign.

As I pack, I'm downloading music from Morpheus and listening to my seven hour play list. It's still not that big, but it's not small either. Thai food is on its way, though at one point I did have lofty ideas about making a spectacular chicken soup that would sustain me for three days. Whoa, amazing timing. My food just arrived ! I'm going to eat it now.

It is happening. There can be no question. My house has the distinct feeling of residence when I was one of the last people to leave. There are vestiges of the habitation of others, a radio that isn't mine, a bit of trash left in a corner, and the unmistakable echo of my radio in an almost empty building. The first things I'm packing are my books. I'm trying to pack them according to whether I might actually look at them while I'm at Al and Carrie's place. Most of the earth science, renaissance history, anthropology and archaeological texts are being boxed first. I read them, but with a good deal less frequency than my art books - and even those will be put through triage. I'll probably take down my art next. God, how depressing.

Tomorrow, after my appointment at Dr. Gawel's (it's a real pain to have to see him just for my migraine prescription renewal) I will come home and collect my closet clothing and bundle it into the car. I think I'll take it to Al and Carrie's in advance of my official move, just to reduce the pressure. By tomorrow night, everthing big has to be ready to go as of lunchtime Wednesday. Ryan is a saint for helping me move - or maybe a sucker. I'm not sure. At least my bed will probably fit in the elevator, unlike the queen sized box spring that he had to help Al carry up ten flights of stairs. Yeesh.

Justin just dropped in to pick up the bedding I loaned him so that he might wash it for me. Since it's got his drool and curlies on it, it's only fair. He seems sort of contrite, which is appropriate, I guess, and he tiptoes around the whole moving process with care. He should, he shafted me pretty hard. Oh well, I love him just the same, even if he's a shnook. It's really warm out, which means I have all the windows open, and the back porch. I brought in my barbeque and chairs - it's supposed to start getting cold again tomorrow and in case it snows, I do not want to have to dig my stuff out. I discovered that with this unusually warm winter, some of my creeping, ground-hugging plants haven't actually died yet. It made me a bit sad to dump them and their soil on the porch, but I'm not taking the dirt with the pots into storage. Also, it's a nice feeling to leave the new owners a righteous mess outside. Ohhh, yeah.