It’s happened, finally. I have seen the light at the end of the tunnel. In this case, “the tunnel” is the layout of my apartment, and “the light” is the solitary permanently-sealed window at one end. Fortunately, I live in the 21st century, so I can use my choice of Kerosene, Incandescent, or Fluorescent illumination - though I think people might complain were I to use an arc lamp. Pity, that; I’ve had a great deal of fun with those over the years.
So, yes, the lighting situation is less than ideal, and there’s work still left to be done, but I’m in the apartment!
Overall, I’m happy with the place. It’s a step down in size, but a step up in various features - I turned on the AC for a test run when I left to bring stuff, and when I came back I walked into - I kid you not - a solid wall of cool. Hell - if it had been any cooler, I’d have guessed I was in a paradoxical time-travel situation. (See, that’s a joke about how cool I am, since I travelled back in time, and met myself, and it’s not just the arrival in the DeLorean that makes me cool - I swear!)
The big thing, though, is that little detail of, you know, actually having my own place again. I can spread out my stuff, work on my things, and do all that stuff I do with things. And stuff. And you know what else? I can shower whenever I damned well please. Sure, I’ll probably occasionally “forget” to shower for a week, but that’s not the point. The point is I can shower. Hell, I can shower with the door open, with a transparent shower curtain and sing “Stayin’ Alive” if I want. Falsetto, baby.
Oh, and there’s that matter of the 90 second commute - that’s a good thing too - because until I have 1,200,00 daily viewers and sponsorships from Jolt Cola and Adidas, well, that whole Work Thing is kind of a Big Deal.
Some stuff is in, some stuff isn’t - and regardless of the in/out state, it’s boxed. It’s funny - I don’t remember what’s in those boxes. I have this feeling that I’m dealing with Shroedinger’s Clutter. Until I open the boxes, the probability won’t resolve itself, and there’s no real answer to what’s in those things.
This moving process means there will likely be a pretty high percentage of “this is my life and how it is going” posts, but I assure you - it’s worth it. When I don’t have a space of my own (even if it’s a space that redefines itself daily, like during a distance hike), things start to get… scattered. You don’t want to be sharing my headspace when it’s too scattered, because otherwise the frog train into flashing makes finger’s seven forks spinning. Obviously.