Time has scrunched up and distorted itself again, and just like a rearview mirror some objects are much closer than they appear. One object that is much closer than it appears is the moving truck into which i will be loading three couches, two tables, a desk, and a bureau around this time tomorrow. In my brain the truck is still so far away that i have room to maneuver, or to brake quickly, when i reality it is on top of me so much that i hardly have space to breathe.

So, time has everything that’s tailgating me held off for the time being (at least to my perception), and i am left suspended in cruise control. Work, Friends, Sleep, Work, Rehearse, Sleep,… capitol lettered events leading me from one day to the next without a question. My bed has had a giant green Rubbermaid bin at the bottom of it for an entire week, and now fully half of its width is taken up with clothes and books i am sorting through, which leaves me a significantly less-than-human-size space in which to curl up at night. But, i don’t protest, because moving the bin or finishing my sort are things i haven’t scheduled any time for. And, so, i will arrive home tonight at 8pm (after another rotation of Work / Rehearsal) and i will leave for work half a day later and in the between bits my apartment will transform itself from scattered to neatly piled, and hopefully my thoughts will follow suit.


Half a day to scrunch the remaining half of my worldly possessions into truck-sized bundles while managing to leave out the things i need to live: already packed are all of my belts, brushes, kitchen utensils, and ties vs. inexplicably unpacked snowboots, economics textbooks, and condoms, none of which i’ll be using in the next day. Or in the next semester, for that matter, unless some highly unpredictable/improbable things occur (like snow in October, me inexplicably switching back into the BS program i scratched and clawed to escape, or me having a romantic life that *gasp* includes sex)(see, i told you they were improbable).

Somewhere at the bottom of a sorting pile of snowboots and textbooks (the condoms are segregated) lies an entire box of caffeine pills that i never opened. You do the math.