I am in the new house. I still have mountains of stuff to unpack.

I never get rid of clothes, even if I never ever wear them anymore and have not done so in years. I do this because a)I think an occasion will come up where I need to wear them, or b) what I lose a whole bunch of weight all of a sudden and need clothes that fit me and don't have any? both of which are ludicrous because when I am going to wear black stretch polyester bell bottoms that make me think of working at the movie theatre ever again anyway? So my goal this summer is to give away my perfectly good clothes that I never wear anymore to Goodwill. (Maybe I should try to sell them? I'm totally poor. But I wouldn't get enough money to pay the difference anyway. It's not like I'm Parker Posey in Party Girl and I can just sell all my clothes.)

I feel at home but not at home. (Nothing to do with unwelcomingness on the part of roommates or anything). I'm having difficultly thinking of this as my room. It still feels like Sul's room with my stuff in it. I'm sure I'll acclimatize.

I decided to alphabetize all my books for some reason. (All my books being a relative term and ignoring all the rest of my books - way more than I have here - that are at home.) I need more books, even though I'm already basically filling the shelf space I have. I always need more books.

One way this house will be good for the pocketbook*: no discernable Starbuckses or Second Cups in the area. As opposed to every second block in my schoolyear neighbourhood. With my luck, I will probably get hired at a Big Bookstore of some kind and wind up with one literally in my work. How will I resist the shaken iced coffee then?

*Not that I have an actual pocketbook. Ew.