Le monde du vieux bandit

My books are packed. All except a few I’ll read before the move and one that’s in a box set, a special edition of Émille Nelligan’s poems with a selection of art reproductions. It’s too big for any box of books, it needs to be packed separately. IF I pack it. Yes, if. Because I banged my knee on the corner and now have a disfigured knee. If I showed it to anyone and claimed a book had done it, no one would believe me. So I’m pissed at my book.

It’s not just books attacking me either. Yesterday I wanted to recuperate a box that was full of vinyl records, since it could be used for other stuff and sealed. I thought it made sense to transfer the records into a lid-less box until they get packed properly away. So I lifted a box full of records. And the bottom, untaped, gave out. All records went splat on my foot. My second thought was “fracture?”, as the first was “Herb’s going to kill me if I’ve damaged any one of those…” Nothing’s broken, but it sure is sensitive.

Last night I reached a particular pre-move stage that I’d forgotten everything about. It’s the stage where I’ve got nothing left to entertain myself with. Books? packed. Notebooks? Packed. Crosswords? Packed. I need more smallish boxes so I can keep going, because at least when I’m packing I feel like we’re moving forward.

This week I intend on getting a lot done. The sense of urgency has goine up quite a few notches, but so has my visualization of our near-term future at the house. Ohboyohboyohboy! I can see it. And it is good. Insert harp music here!

This entry was posted on Monday, April 20th, 2009 at 10:20 am and is filed under moi, * in english. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.