July 5th, 2004

Nine

Sending Things, Finding Things

I've cleaned out my room fairly well, by which I mean I've sorted the contents of boxes into things I want to keep, things I want sent, things that can go elsewhere, and garbage.

It's probably going to be time, tomorrow, to sort the things that I want sent into categories and priorities and so forth, getting them packaged up, getting them sent out.

I have some more bowls to bring home, some slightly-bubbly lovely blue bird bowls that are unsellable because the clay decided to boil ever so little. Damaged goods, to the professional eye, but useful and pretty still to the uncritical. The potter's house gets the cracked pots, and the doctor's children have diabetes.

I still have books to sort through to have sent. I know I want to have some of them with me, but I have to pick so very carefully -- there's so little room in my room in Arizona for more books! I want all my library with me, I so very much do, but I'll have to settle for only a fraction of it. Mama said that I must have a ton of books. I commented that perhaps not -- if my average book weighs a pound, I still only have around just over a thousand books.

I want a bar code scanner and library software, to sort my books. How do I ever want that! The longing grows more intense (yet without motivation, still) when I regard my bedroom shelves and the unsorted richness upon them. Many of them are in alphabetical order. Many are not.

I have clothing to pad the corners. I have beads. I have pottery. I have Junque. I have sleeping bags. I have to figure out how I'm going to get all the stuff I want to take back into one bag and the backpack so I'll be able to manage the bus gracefully.

Tomorrow will definitely be sorting things to send. I've gotten into the papers, now, and that means it's time to stop sorting the room and start sorting the things that have been sorted out of the room.

And Mama was right. She couldn't find the opaque projector I know I had, and I couldn't either.
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    sick still not breathing
running, bomb tech

Blog Haiku Day

dust on shelf lifts now
thick on the tongue, in the nose
room-cleaning sucks hard
  • Current Mood
    sick congested
Azztidy

Books, Boxes, and Shiny Things

I found a Shiny Thing in my closet for easalle. It should be about the right size, considering that it was tight on me when I was in high school. Hee. I'll be bringing it back with me.

Finished up Peter Morwood's Firebird tonight, and started in (again) on outofambit's The Door Into Fire. (I love being able to cite the LJ name of the feed of the author's blog...)

I'd been looking all over my room for that book, in Arizona, and hadn't been able to find it. It's nice to know that this was because it was in Fairbanks, not because it had been lost.

Tomorrow, packages will be mailed, and then perhaps Mama and I will go and see if we can't deliver the afghan to River (or his mother) and maybe even the baby afghan.

Instead of toting all this stuff with me on the plane and on the bus, UPS packages. Hooray UPS!

The sky has cleared, and the sun (and mosquitoes) are out in full force. It still feels as if the state is permanently air-conditioned, and this morning I was regretting the low neck of my nightgown. I don't have to drink half as much to stay caught up with my sweat. What sweat?

My room's been stripped of sundry things that marked it as mine. The Madonna calendar is down and gone. The malachite-green-with-gold-trim Constitution-class starship model is down and gone. (I'm going to miss that thing. The original color was fluorescent pink, giving rise to the nickname of "Barbie's Enterprise".) So with the "Freak on Board" bumper sticker and the tangled wires that were supposed to give the TV better reception. (They didn't.) The TV's gone too. Shawn gave me that thing after he realized that he had two, and I had none. I don't think I'll miss it but for a slight sentimental twinge. I was eighteen. I don't think my parents were thrilled.

FatherSir dropped a box of BJ's stuff off at his parents' house. I'm glad to have all that out and off to him.

I may wind up meeting up with Jez and John and dropping off the afghan I made for the first kid. I hope I'll be able to see them. It would be really nice. Jez was one of my friends from work quite some time back, and we hit it off instantly when we met. We sat in the break room catching each other up on what we'd been doing since the last time we met -- the first time we'd actually met each other (this lifetime, at least). I hope she hasn't changed into someone that the person I've changed into can't get along with.
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    awake awake