moving

Jon is moving in. We've moved together many times in the past. We are fundamentally different when it comes to moving. Jon likes to stick things in boxes as early as possible and watch the boxes pile up. He likes to quantify the change that is about to happen. I can't handle that. I need tidiness. In my mind, that translates to moving everything at the last possible moment, shoving it into a cardboard box on the way out the door. This time just Jon is moving. He's been toting walkable loads to the apartment for weeks. Hoarding little piles of books in one corner and CD's in another, occasionally requesting my presence to ogle the growing heaps with him. In order to cope with the chaos, I got rid of a bunch of stuff I would otherwise have kept.



I was feeling pretty good about my ability to get rid of things that weren't exactly worthless. Truthfully, it's just that I have a lot more where that came from. Here's the state of things:



It is officially the last picture of the apartment I can bear to take until the whole thing is resolved. Don't expect another one anytime soon. Today my efforts turned into a sequin sorting venture. In the end, I threw away about 5 sequins. That's what I call progress. I'm not sure what Jon calls it.