- There is nothing wrong with spending $4.80 every day on cinnamon dolce lattes.
- I am always five minutes away from wherever I need to be. Unless I need to take a cab, in which case I am just 15 minutes away. For example, "I'm leaving in the next five minutes, and it'll take me like two seconds to walk across the High Level Bridge."
- In the summertime, it is unnecessary to dry my hair. That's what the sun does.
- I have very few things. Moving them from Point A to Point B shouldn't take longer than, say, a day. And I only need, like, four boxes to carry everything.
People shouldn't tell lies. Specifically, they shouldn't tell themselves lies.
I have left packing and moving to the last possible minute. And even when I am supposed to be packing, like now, I find myself easily distracted by Facebook, my own blog, diary entries written when I was 19, and, the lowest of all shoulda-been-packing moments, Age of Love.
Anyway, turns out I have lots of stuff. And this, the least adventurous of any of my moves -- this weekend I move my crapload of stuff from one floor of my building to the next courtesy of Alberta's shocking economic boom, which wooed my landlords into selling their condo -- is still a really big pain.
And, like every other move I've ever submitted to (five in the last five years thanks to an 18-month transit between Ottawa-Niagara-Edmonton), I am appalled by the number of books I have collected over the years.
Seriously. Has there ever been a book I've said no to at a bookstore? I am ridiculous! I have whole piles of to-read books, that still have not been read, and still I buy more.... I tried to carry armloads of books from my old apartment to my new, but then realized that would take me 45 days. So now I definitely need more than four boxes to pack all my stuff.
Don't even get me started on how much cookware I've somehow accumulated. Or how disgusting it is that a grown woman (me) has only dusted as often as her mother has come to visit her in the last two years.