I forgot what I hate about moving. It's not just the actual packing or the lungfuls of long forgotten skin particles that fly out from behind the couch, it is the actual physical process of looking for a new place.
I'm picky. Let's face it (well maybe you don't have to face it, just recognize it) and I have specifics for where I want to live. I was poor until I was 8, so I my issues are more of a reflection of who I don't want to become rather than who I was. Anyway, I don't want to live in a neighborhood full of rundown stores, drunks and crazy homeless cats. I'm crazy with a book addiction so there needs to be bars and bookstores near by. There needs to be trains and decent supermarkets and for the love of God, there needs to be a diversity in the neighborhood and not one crazy European Sect of Insane. IF it was two that would be fine however it is too homogeneous for my liking.
I imagine that I will be doing a lot of walking.
I also hate having to explain the reasons why I'm moving.
I've never stayed in one house/apartment for longer than four years. I don't know why but it's true. 4 1/2 years seems to be the max. We moved around a lot as a kid. When my mother was dating my now step-dad, we stayed in an apartment in Middle Village for 4 years before moving to a house for another 4 1/2. Rather I was there for that long, my parents are still there with the littlest of my clan. I have a wanderlust that is alternatively squelched by - now well-controlled- panic attacks and the lack of funding. And the reticence of the hubster about leaving his job and NYC.
Which I get.
I also hate the idea of neighbors. I don't like them, I don't want to know them and I sure as hell don't want to pretend like I give a shit about anything they are saying. NOT to say that I'm a bad person and wouldn't be friends with a neighbor but it has been my experience that people living in buildings are exceedingly noisy or just plain rude. I will say 'good morning', 'have a good night' or 'thanks' but I will not pry into whether or not they are leasing or buying.
I also don't like anyone else's noise by my own.
When did I become a curmudgeonly old Korean war vet?
Probably on my second beer and third hot dog.
I also just a read book that I've been waiting a year for and it not only underwhelmed me but also completely frustrated me.
I'm also afraid to write, sleep and continue playing Red Dead.
Yeah, I know.
On another note that is both less misanthropic and happier...
I got nothing.
I think I need a nap.
Any good tiding's from the world outside of mine?