Friday, June 18, 2004
 

Storage Space for Rent

I finally cleaned up my den, or at least my part of it. I put Alice in charge of picking up her toys, but she seems disinterested. Kids these days.

I have a mondo Crate and Barrel package (belonging to the getting-hitched neighbors; see below) in front of my stairs; it's too heavy for me to move to their place and too big for me to get my arms around. Yeah, yeah, weak and short. I've heard it before.

I'm also collecting campus mail (namely, the thirty billion mailings per day we get about teaching matters) for JM as well. Turns out that another student left several hundred computer-printed Masterplots pages crammed into her box. I hefted the old-growth forest back to my apartment and eventually jammed it all into a box and mailing taped it shut. So I have that and her other mail in my doorway / in front of the stairs (they're more or less the same thing), along with what is apparently the entire contents of a Crate and Barrel warehouse.

Speaking of warehouses, be still, my heart.

Had to get that in there, but it's somewhat relevant. See, all who've had the misfortune of living with me know that I tend to dump piles of shoes right inside the doorway, because I don't even leave them on long enough in the house to get them to my room. And given the [undisclosed] number of shoes I have, this gets out of hand in a hurry. So I actually edited the shoes-inside-door to what I consider the indispensible three pairs, and here it's all cluttered up with a mound of cardboard.

I'm not actually annoyed or anything, whiney as this probably sounds (we might refer to this as my authorial tone). It just seems that there's a cosmic conspiracy to keep my entranceway messy. Or maybe it's the FBI. CIA. Homeland Security. It all comes down to the government, you know.

Suzanne Modeski, X-Files episode 5.1: "No matter how paranoid you are, you're not paranoid enough."

'k. That's enough cyber-damage for today.

Elvisette philosophized at 10:12 PM