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There’s something about Sunday night
that really makes you want to kill yourself
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Sunday, May 14, 2006


Today I cleared the closet of my winter shirts, and used them to pad some dishes I started packing. I also went through the bookshelves and selected some books and videos to give away (though, unfortunately, not enough to really make a dent in the huge amount of stuff we'll be moving.) It feels odd to be packing this soon, but it eases my stress. Last time I moved, people were carrying boxes down to the truck as quickly as I could pack them up, and that's an experience I never want to repeat again.

I added up the days left here, and it's 78. Which seems kind of high until I remember it's equal to two and a half months. At work, I have forms clients complete when they want to give me permission to talk to people/agencies on their behalf, releases of information, which last for 90 days after they are signed. Lately I've noticed the expiration date I'm writing is after I'll be gone. It's a strange thing to think about.

I'm terrified beyond belief about how I'm going to find an apartment. An affordable one in a decent location, one that's not too run down or tiny or depressing. All I can picture in my mind is my last apartment, which was blissful in many ways for me, but not great for two people. And with absolutely no closets or kitchen counter space.

I think I've been putting Chicago in the back of my mind for so long (first because I missed it so badly, then because I started to like it here and didn't know if we were going to return, then I didn't want to jinx my school acceptance, and finally I got busy organizing and planning for the beginning of school that I forgot where I was moving to go to school) that I've just woken up and realized it's real, that I'm moving back to the place that makes me happiest ever.

I can bike to school and work and to the Middle Eastern bakery for olives and spinach pies, then Little Vietnam for black sesame balls, dirt-cheap fresh basil, and rice noodles. I can spend the evening at a punk rock bar drinking Maker's Mark without breaking the bank, then get home without worrying about leaving a car somewhere. I can take a blanket to the park and hear the jazz fest, or blues fest, or Celtic fest . . . And I can see my sister and my nephew whenever I want to.

Only 78 more days!



Anonymous junkyardlove said...

wait, your sister is pregnant?! did I know this? I need to scroll your blog.

also, can't wait to have you back here!

10:29 AM  
Blogger LE said...

Oh, no no no! That was probably confusing. My sister-in-law just had a baby, hence my first nephew.

10:41 AM  
Blogger Megan said...

So exciting! You'll be closer to ME!

2:25 PM  

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