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moving blues
singapore sunset
amw
I'm feeling kinda sick right now. Sunday i packed up most of my belongings that are actually mine and today i've packed a random collection of odds and ends. J's already done most of her shit. What's left is a ton of kitchen shit, my pictures, and more shared odds and ends. I actually tried to get rid of a bunch of stuff before this move but i still have way too much. Books and comics i've read once and will never read again. DVDs i've watched a couple times but would now rather watch on Netflix or download because it's just more convenient. Ornaments that mean nothing to me but i feel i ought to keep because they were gifts. Other ornaments i picked up along the way that just exist to fill gaps on shelves i never look at anyway. Christmas and Halloween stuff that i love when it's that time of year but is just a waste of space otherwise. I just want to get rid of it all.

I'm also feeling sick because i had a $1500 credit card bill due to buying Ableton and taking J out for her graduation last month, and this weekend i spent another $1200 on a dresser and two bedside tables. Fucking, oh my God. I had just hit that point in the store where i was like, i am too tired to go on, i know we need a dresser because i've been living out of a suitcase for three years, i don't want a cheap shitty one that will fall apart, so fucking whatever. But i hate spending money on this shit. $1200 on a trip somewhere, sure, that's a memory i'll have forever, but a piece of furniture? And one that isn't really mine because like everything you go shopping for as a couple it's really kinda sorta "ours"? Fucking hell. Thursday the movers come, and that'll be another $500 or something. That's a cost i'm happy to pay because i've done enough moves to know i never want to move myself, but all this money flying out of my wallet adds up. I can afford it, but i hate scrambling for cash when i had six months or so without worries. I feel trapped again.

Last week i was so stressed out i messaged a friend to go out for drinks because i needed to talk so badly. Next thing i know it's 5am and i'm in her condo with a straight rum in one hand and half a glass of Guinness in the other. And i don't even like Guinness. Needless to say we both called in sick and i had a super-seedy Thursday that felt like Sunday came early. I probably needed it because it let me have a quiet Friday evening and an exhausting Saturday of going to hardware stores and furniture stores to spend all my money on domestic shit. Even Saturday night i was fairly well-behaved, insofar as i still made it home to pack Sunday afternoon. This coming week is all about packing and moving and unpacking and shit too. Blar. It's not the move itself that's getting to me - that shit is just part of life - it's the money and feeling like i can't do what i want to do. There's other stuff too, but too tired to go into it all right now.

Guess i should get some sleep so i can keep kicking ass at work. Maybe tomorrow i won't be so busy i forget my therapy appointment like i did two weeks ago. Maybe i should just give up on it because it's too fucking expensive and i'd rather take time off work to have fun than to talk about the same old things that'll never get fixed. It might be time to admit my neuroses are here to stay.

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I would not wish moving on my worst enemy. It is honestly my worst nightmare. The fact that I've had to do it approximately once a year for the last decade just compounds my hatred. Hope the stress settles down soon.

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