tomorrow, we ride!
Aug. 26th, 2006 12:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intjonathanStarted paying rent on The New House (it still needs a name) today, which meant I could put stuff in it, so I did. There's boxes, mostly of computer parts. A microwave. Nothing essential, just what was already boxed from the last move.
What should be my last commute from work to Lynnwood was pretty miserable. I got home just in time for dinner though. I'll definitely miss having dinner waiting for me after work. Of course, spending 10 minutes walking home is a very different business than spending 30 minutes in traffic. We'll see how that works out.
Took a load of stuff to Whitney's apartment. It's right off the main drag in Capitol Hill, and it smells like paint. It's a cool place though, it fits an art college student well. Funky, old, good location.
Tomorrow - like when I wake up after the sleep I really want right now - I must begin to disassemble my room. I've consciously avoided it all week. I'm unready to walk away from the only space I've consistently called mine for 23 years. That's a long time. For almost a quarter of my potential lifespan has this room been mine, and it deserves a proper farewell. All the ghosts, prayers, urges and fears of childhood lived alongside me here as my companions. Monsters lived in this closet. I've seen snow on Christmas morning out this window. I hid under the bed right there, on the east wall by the door. I carved into the drywall next to my waterbed when I couldn't sleep.
The carvings are still there, soon to be patched and painted over by a mother zealous to design and freshen, to claim what is really her property as her own once again, and to stretch her arms into a twilight free of dependents. The light blue will change, the persnickety roller shade will be replaced, the closet will put on its doors. But part of me will still be curled up in the corner, waiting for evening prayers so he can go to sleep.
What should be my last commute from work to Lynnwood was pretty miserable. I got home just in time for dinner though. I'll definitely miss having dinner waiting for me after work. Of course, spending 10 minutes walking home is a very different business than spending 30 minutes in traffic. We'll see how that works out.
Took a load of stuff to Whitney's apartment. It's right off the main drag in Capitol Hill, and it smells like paint. It's a cool place though, it fits an art college student well. Funky, old, good location.
Tomorrow - like when I wake up after the sleep I really want right now - I must begin to disassemble my room. I've consciously avoided it all week. I'm unready to walk away from the only space I've consistently called mine for 23 years. That's a long time. For almost a quarter of my potential lifespan has this room been mine, and it deserves a proper farewell. All the ghosts, prayers, urges and fears of childhood lived alongside me here as my companions. Monsters lived in this closet. I've seen snow on Christmas morning out this window. I hid under the bed right there, on the east wall by the door. I carved into the drywall next to my waterbed when I couldn't sleep.
The carvings are still there, soon to be patched and painted over by a mother zealous to design and freshen, to claim what is really her property as her own once again, and to stretch her arms into a twilight free of dependents. The light blue will change, the persnickety roller shade will be replaced, the closet will put on its doors. But part of me will still be curled up in the corner, waiting for evening prayers so he can go to sleep.
