Our little apartment is indeed disappearing under a sea of boxes. We have three weeks ‘til the MOVE, (and yes, it feels like it ought to be in capitals) give or take a few days here and there. We started early because both of us have been through too many moves where everything seemed to collapse into the last packing days available.
I seem to remember, sometime in my wild youth, packing and moving on the same day, in a single load, in a very small car.
Unbelievable! Must’ve been my evil twin … or an alternate reality!
I haven’t had the focus to write either. Whenever I try, my eye slips away from the computer monitor to the nearest half-empty bookshelf, and I say to myself, “Oooo, I know which box that could go into.”
Self groans and gives up trying to write.
In the spirit of honouring the compartments my brain is trying to function within, I give you …
“My guitar is not a thing. It’s an extension of myself. It’s who I am” Joan Jett