T-minus two weeks and counting...

An update on the move:

It is two weeks until I fly out for the reconnaissance mission to Boston and I still haven't packed anything but the books. Most of the books will be going to Slander house because I'm sick of constantly packing/unpacking/hauling/storing/toting them around with me. I have had many of them for years and have not read them. And, isn't that what they make library cards for anyway?

The scary closet remains, um, scary. I'm not looking forward to peeling away the layers of bags and boxes and otherwise useless crap that have been sitting there for over a year now (and mostly sat in the scary closet of my previous home). How the hell do I acquire so much stuff? I mean, is it really so difficult to just let go? My mother had several scary closets at her house, so I think I come by it honestly, but sheesh. When I move, I'm resolving to not have a scary closet. If I don't need it, it has to go.

Some friends of mine have started this little tradition known as the clothing exchange, one I hope to continue when I get to Boston. Basically, a bunch of us girls get together to drink beer and sift through all the clothes that we don't wear and/or don't fit into anymore. Like treasure hunting in someone else's closet, its a really good way to get new and cute clothes on the cheap (or on the free, as the case may be). All of the extras go to the Salvation Army. This time though, I've decided that I can't come home with any new clothes. I already have too many for my own good, and I don't want to lug a whole car load of outfits to the east coast (I mean, come on...who needs like 20 pajama shirts to lounge around in anyway?). Besides, I have to have room for the cats...

Speaking of the cats, I had to take Rosie to the vet the other day because she decided it would be a good idea to eat tinsel. Let me tell you, accidentally stepping on kitty tinsel barf while barefoot is no good way to start a Sunday morning. Stupid cats. To make matters worse, when we got there, the vet was about to close and told me that they needed to keep her overnight (read: charge me to babysit my cat). Grrrrr. Anyway, when I went to pick her up the next day, I decided that the short little trip would be the perfect opportunity to get my other cat, Miles, acclimated to riding in the car. Poor sensitive Miles...he screamed. He cried. He screamed some more. He cried some more. And then he howled. You would have thought I was about to murder him or something. This was probably the most miserable 5 minutes in the car I have ever spent (other than the time I vomited all over my mom at the drive-in movies). My cat has serious issues, and if he doesn't get them worked out, it is going to be a LONG trip to Boston...

And...I might have a new roommate. I generally don't like roommates (I'm too accustomed to living alone), but Will rules--I've known him since the 5th grade. Looks like we are starting a mini-Reno-diaspora in the Greater Boston area. Word.