I have actually packed a lot of my stuff in boxes already. And I could be totally delusional. I fear the kitchen. Maybe I'll just give everything to Goodwill and start over. I keep buying food. I think I'm heading toward famine because I'm moving a few miles south and they have no food there. I won't be able to walk to my favorite Coop anymore :-( well I could and climb the little mountain to my house with provisions in a backpack. Imagine my muscular thighs after a few months of that.
I shamelessly flirted with a woman at the dog park after I learned she is a plumber. Shameless, I tell you. I got her number. She's impossibly young compared to me. Then again, almost everyone is impossibly young compared to me. I fool people with a lot of swearing and immature behavior.
My tenant of seven years is moving out. It's the end of an era.
I'm watching really bad science fiction right now. Really bad. So I don't have to face the packing situation. I'm afraid all my stuff won't fit into my new house (well, why would it, silly person) because I'm going from many rooms to a few.
I gave my bed away and now I'm sleeping on a pallet among boxes of books.
The whole thing is making me feel queasy. That's what the bad sci-fi is for.