It’s like the condo is doing its best to make up for the shitty year this last one has been by making my moving (in stages) quite painless. Painless apart from the cuts on my hands and a bruised left ring finger I mean. But all the stuff that’s going into storage is no longer going into storage; it is being stored. Reyn spent his morning generously helping me carry shit, which isn’t the most fun way to spend a morning but we’re old men eager to prove we can still do these things. I was talking to some eighth graders the other day about Jurassic Park and they said it came out before they were born. Le sigh.
There’s still room in my storage locker for a few bodies, so ask if you need. You have to provide your own carpet to roll ‘em up in. Sorry.
Now it’s just a matter of throwing junk out. Did you know I still have all my university-era schoolwork notebooks? Once this weekend is over they will be in the recycling bin, so if you want to learn what I learned about matrilineal systems and such, go scouring blue boxes across the city. I will be running a scavenger hunt with fabulous prizes.
I haven’t decided exactly when I’m moving over to Reyn’s for real, but Sinatra is the last thing I’ll be bringing over. And then I’ll be watching her closely to make sure she and Kittenoh settle their territorial disputes in a civilized manner. I’m partial to the Queensbury Marches duelling rules myself. We’ll see who shall be amenable.aging apartment duel jurassic park moving reyn sinatra storage winnipeg