![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I hate when I get self-help slogans and catchphrases stuck in my head. It's even worse when I agree with them, though I'm scraped by their triteness.
Yesterday afternoon I forbade Lowenstein from freaking out about moving, telling her that I don't care if she has to straight-up lie, I need her to tell me things are going to be just fine whenever I start panicking. But today, I think maybe it's better if she's the one who freaks out and I can console her which will then help me keep it together in the next few days. I told Damon on the phone last night that I was anticipating an anxiety attack/mini-nervous breakdown sometime around Sunday afternoon when everything is said and done and I'm surrounded by boxes in a new place, all alone. That will be me in the fetal position in the kitchen while Sophie licks my face. Can someone volunteer come by around 4 pm to scrap me off the floor? Thanks.
But really everything is going somewhat dandy, relatively speaking. Last night I packed up all of my CD's and tapes and DVD's and many things in that surrounding area and Lowensteing brought boxes and packed most of my books. These are the bulks of my belongings. We did most of the packing naked, not because it's a fetish or sexy, but because it was so damn hot in my apartment. I've already started plotting out the next wave of what gets boxed up, to the point that I dreamt about it last night, but not in a stressful way. I also dreamt that I was looking at the grad school application requirements and I had royally screwed up the ones I mailed out yesterday. Now THAT's an anxiety dream.
Sure, moving sucks, but what can you do? Talking about how much it sucks just makes me feel worse.
Today I get the keys to the new place and get to look at it again since the day I first handed money over. Right now it's shrunk in my head to the point that I fear I must sell every piece of furniture except a bed and one chair. This happened with my studio -- I panicked after renting it, worried I would be living in a 2 x 2 room. But I had enough space for a full-size bed, couch, coffee table, television, stereo and turntables and CD racks, and there was still floor space for a board game. Based on these calculations, things should be livable.
Yesterday afternoon I forbade Lowenstein from freaking out about moving, telling her that I don't care if she has to straight-up lie, I need her to tell me things are going to be just fine whenever I start panicking. But today, I think maybe it's better if she's the one who freaks out and I can console her which will then help me keep it together in the next few days. I told Damon on the phone last night that I was anticipating an anxiety attack/mini-nervous breakdown sometime around Sunday afternoon when everything is said and done and I'm surrounded by boxes in a new place, all alone. That will be me in the fetal position in the kitchen while Sophie licks my face. Can someone volunteer come by around 4 pm to scrap me off the floor? Thanks.
But really everything is going somewhat dandy, relatively speaking. Last night I packed up all of my CD's and tapes and DVD's and many things in that surrounding area and Lowensteing brought boxes and packed most of my books. These are the bulks of my belongings. We did most of the packing naked, not because it's a fetish or sexy, but because it was so damn hot in my apartment. I've already started plotting out the next wave of what gets boxed up, to the point that I dreamt about it last night, but not in a stressful way. I also dreamt that I was looking at the grad school application requirements and I had royally screwed up the ones I mailed out yesterday. Now THAT's an anxiety dream.
Sure, moving sucks, but what can you do? Talking about how much it sucks just makes me feel worse.
Today I get the keys to the new place and get to look at it again since the day I first handed money over. Right now it's shrunk in my head to the point that I fear I must sell every piece of furniture except a bed and one chair. This happened with my studio -- I panicked after renting it, worried I would be living in a 2 x 2 room. But I had enough space for a full-size bed, couch, coffee table, television, stereo and turntables and CD racks, and there was still floor space for a board game. Based on these calculations, things should be livable.
