Since I’ve got an hour and a half to meet my self-imposed blogging deadline and since nothing interesting or controversial happened this week, let me tell you about the three best things about moving out of my home:
1. Destroying the big brown couch. It was a comfortable and very sleep-on-able couch but its time had come. The supports were cracked and you could hear them cracking more the longer you sat on them. The springs felt a little dodgy and upon ripping off the upholstering I confirmed that some of them had broken. And the ecosystems that had developed underneath the upholstery reminded me of Lisa’s experiment in Treehouse of Horrors VII. Tearing it apart was cathartic, but hauling it off to the garbage by myself probably took another four or five years off my spine.
2. Cleaning and emptying the house. It’s exhausting, but gratifying. There’s something very zen-like about the place now that nothing is in it. I could open the blinds and let in the sunlight or gaze upon the monsoon as it hammers upon my roof and my windows, turn on the fan or the A/C or both, and sit on the just-vacuumed floor of any of the empty rooms, and just meditate or think or daydream or simply be.
3. I feel very much like I did I took my last final exam in college. I was done. I was finally done with exams, and I didn’t have any more to deal with in the foreseeable future. Sure, I’d eventually have to take another exam, I’m sure one was going to spring up somewhere down the road, but for the time being I could enjoy not having to deal with exams. I feel this way because now that all my stuff is out of the old place and safely in first-floor storage units, and now that my new place is going to have a freight elevator, I don’t have to worry about moving stuff up stairs anymore. Glorious.