Y'all know that I am six ways from gung-ho about my Jersey roots (though in the wake of this latest election I am not so proud), however, there are somethings that cannot be avoided, no way no how, has to be, put on your big girl panties and deal with it. For me, one of those things is that after I graduate in May (fingers crossed) not only will I have to come up with a new standard bio (for I will no longer be a secretary by day, grad student by evening, owl by night...prolly still the last part though), but also I am going to need to find a new place to live. This is not only because I am having the devil's own time with the job market around here, but also because Daddy and Dahling are setting up house in Delaware and, nothing against those of you who may live there, but you couldn't drag me to live in a town that has four gun shops but no dry cleaners. I would bite you. You would bleed.
But this is not a problem, my friends! Oh no no. Because I have a plan. The short of that plan (we will skip the long and go right to the short for now) is that I shall be moving to North Carolina, but frankly, what the plan is isn't critical.
What is critical is the fact that now that I have a plan I am in waiting mode. You know, that insufferable period where you have decided what the next step is but you need to finish the step you are on and all you want to do is get to that next step because you have it planned so beautifully, and oh pretty please is can be next step time?
"Get over it!" you say, "Everyone has been there". And this is true, and I would be happy to just work through the next six months like a good trooper, except my brain has chosen a rather unique way to deal with waiting...I want to throw away all my stuff.
Apparently some part of me decided that i needed to start preparing to move (again, in six months) by getting rid of shit I don't need. Box of junk in the back of my closet from when i was nine? Gone! Clothes I no longer wear? Donated! Unrequested christmas or birthday presents? Yard sale box! (Oh you should have seen me when I got to the point that I needed a second yard sale box. It was like someone had told me all the leftover Halloween Reese's I've been eating were going to shrink my thighs.)
The issue is that I've gone beyond that. I now want to throw out literally everything I lay eyes on, to the point where I've had to fish my check book out of my desk trash twice. At this rate, by the time I get around to moving I am going to have to pack 2 pair of underwear and my phone, which has not gotten almost tossed only because I tend to be on it while I'm cleaning.
...well, maybe I'll hang onto these extra Reese's too.