It’s Saturday, and I’m sitting on a folded-up rug in the middle of an otherwise empty apartment. My furniture, books, dishes, all my stuff is (hopefully) nearing the end of its northbound journey and will fill this void soon; but for now, I’m camping indoors, making do with an air mattress, one small pot, one mug, one incomplete set of silverware. You forget how little heat big, blank spaces retain; my first electric bill is sure to be a thrilling read. I’m not sure I’ve ever shown chairs the appreciation they rightly deserve.
I have a million errands still to run, phone calls to make, emails to send. But after a rather busy week moving a thousand miles to an entirely new place to start an entirely new job, I decided to take it easy today, use my lack of internet access as an excuse to rewatch Gilmore Girls on DVD, do a little laundry, and make lists. Lists upon lists upon lists. All the lingering details that pop up while trying to establish a new life without veering too close to bankruptcy in the process. It’s a delicate dance to choreograph.
Snow is falling and actually sticking for the first time since I arrived. I’m watching big fluffy flakes swirl over the water outside my window, bands of clouds alternately obscuring and revealing islands in the distance. Temps are dropping, with proper parka weather forecast to hit on Monday. Luckily, I got my first piece of campus mail on Friday: ice grippers for my shoes, standard issue for all new university employees.