Packing

Packing sucks. Put crap in a box, then take it out. Rock goes up the hill, rock comes down the hill. Seems that way anyway. After seeing my new place in Okayama, it makes me want to leave here even less. This place is small, but that place is SMALL. I'll really miss seeing the mountains out my window, my tatami mats, my big closet, and having a sink in my bathroom (come on, is that really too much to ask for?!). I'll have no mountains to run up, no cheap supermarkets nearby to dash too, no Filipino prostitutio.....wait forget about that one.

I feel when I'm sorting my stuff, I'm kind of sorting memories. Is this card worth keeping? Will it cause me to remember something special next year? In two years? In 20 years? Damn I really liked this book the first time, maybe I'll want to read it again sometime...should I really carry it for so long? I think I take a distinct pleasure in getting rid of crap I don't need. I'm sure I get this from my father. So perhaps my mother causes the mixed feelings about it. This is a nice shirt! I haven't worn it in so long....I wonder if it still fits me....

Oh yeah, counter space? Forget it.