06.06.2003 - 1:46 p.m.

My bedroom smells funny. This is actually a bit of a victory, because until I cleaned it yesterday, it was my car that smelled, of eau de baked funk. I never did figure out why, but apparently the reason is in one of the bags of stuff I brought in, and that narrows the search considerably. Probably a case of �Forgotten Sock Lives,� or �Objects in Tupperware may be stronger than they appear.� Today I�m carwashing, windexing, and leather-treating. This weekend I start packing for my new apartment; I stopped by Giant the other morning to clean them out of good boxes.

I will not procrastinate.

I will not procrastinate.

I will not repeat the mistake of taking a month to move.

Although to be fair, I only had four good boxes last time. I had to keep packing, moving, dumping contents, returning, packing, moving�this time I have ten. And if I fill them all, I won�t hesitate at all to get more. I hate moving.

On an unrelated, yet similarly unpleasant note, my cold is progressing from a tight throat and hearty cough to the point where I�m wondering who stuffed Niagra Falls up my nose.

-stonebridge

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