moving in

Entry #1297, Mon, July 22, 2002, 01:51 EST (Life in General)
(posted when I was 23 years old.)
So in response to the imminent threat of Rich Murphey's arrival in South Bend, and thus the subsequent threat of him wanting to actually use his room in the apartment he'll be sharing with Branden and Arun, I've been forced to vacate my belongings from the premises. So now I'm actually moved in to Meg's place for real. Of course, all my stuff is just sitting, still boxed up, in a corner near the kitchen. Opening the boxes would be a bunch of fun. It's only been -- on average -- six weeks since I packed those boxes. Yet I have very little memory of what is in them. Opening them would be a lot like Christmas. I think there's a couple blankets in there, and I remember packing up my Belgian mining oil lamp. But what the contents of the other remaining boxes could be is simply beyond me. I thought I'd done a good job of getting rid of most of the things I wouldn't miss. But since I can't even remember what's in these boxes, it seems tempting to simply toss them while I have the chance.

The problem, unfortunately, is that I know of a few certain things that are in those boxes that I would like to hang on to. A wise packing job would have found all those items together in one box labeled 'stuff worth saving.' The rest of the unmarked boxes could sit around until I forgot what was in them, at which point they could be tossed or donated to anyone who won't ask a lot of questions.

All in all, though, I'm pretty happy to look at the pile of my stuff and see just how little I own, relatively speaking. Of course, there's still some more stuff in my car and in my office, but it doesn't add up to too much. A man could easily deal with that much stuff while being a homeless graduate student.

That's my suspicion, at least. It doesn't look like I'll get a chance to field test it. On Friday I gave the CSE department Megan's address as the place they can contact me. It's official. So if you want to know my new address and phone number, contact me. Homelessness was a cool concept while it lasted. Who knows, though. Perhaps I would have discovered that the concept is much more fun than the reality.

A few days ago I wanted to brush my teeth. So I went to look for my toothbrush in the travel kit I keep it in. But I found the travel kit to be empty. I confront Megan, anxiously worried in the back of my mind that she'd sold all my personal hygiene products on some black market in order to support some drug habit she'd yet to inform me of. Instead, I found out, she'd moved all my stuff into a couple unused drawers in the bathroom because she found it silly that I was still living out of a travel bag. I was quite surprised to find out that there had been empty drawers in that bathroom.

In reality, it seems quite convenient to be living with a girl. I feel that if I experience at any point a need for any sort of hygienic or cosmetic product, I will find it somewhere around here. And I get the impression Meg even knows what all the wide variety of chemicals she's collected are for. That, to me, is astounding. I remember at some point early in high school I was given a razor, some shaving cream, and some after shave and was basically left to figure things out from there on my own. And while I manage to scrape most of the hair off my face every day, I feel that I've missed out on some big secrets about proper shaving technique. I can't begin to imagine where one would learn how to wield such a formidable array of cosmetic weaponry as Meg possesses.

Honestly, though, I think there's only one thing I need to accomplish before I gain total harmony. I think I need to do some serious exfoliating.
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