Goodness, how the time gets away from you.  I think we’ve been here three weeks, and thus far, the following things have happened: I have gone to the DMV four times, located all Target’s in a 15 mile radius, and donated approximately one million tons of home goods to either Goodwill or the Salvation Army.  Normally I don’t donate to Christian charities (I think they’re doing fine on their own, and also, I’m Jewish), but when you spot a Salvation Army truck accepting donations and your car is so full of your SHIT that the exhaust pipe is dragging on the asphalt, well.  You flip a quick bitch and drop that shit off, is what you do.

All of this donation is in the service of reducing our living space from 2000 square feet to a little over a 1000- mostly in the form of storage space.  In Seattle, we had a garage and a full, unfinished basement, and LO, did we love to store things.  I lived in that house for 3 years, and there were bins in the basement that had moved directly from my condo without ever being unpacked or rifled through, and LIKE A COMPLETE TOOL, I had those bins loaded onto the moving truck and driven here, instead of just THROWING THEM THE FUCK AWAY, ALREADY.  All sorts of stuff I should have gotten rid of without looking through, because, holy shit, does sorting it all take time.  And then you get lost down memory lane, you know, when you find the pictures of you and your ex hosting a backyard BBQ at the first house you bought together and you know you should have burned those pictures when you threw out all of her other shit, because these memories?  THEY AREN’T THAT GOOD.  Mostly because you know now that she was already sleeping with her coworker at the time the photos were taken, and you look like a blissed out happy fool who has NO IDEA what’s coming.  Lesbian drama- sometimes it really is like the L Word.

You know what they don’t tell you, when they tell you to downsize?  That downsizing AIN’T CHEAP.  The dresser I brought to the relationship fit just fine in a 12 by 12 room.  In a 9 by 9 room, I’m busting either a toe, a knee, or a shin on an edge every five seconds- turning getting into bed a Fear Factor-style obstacle course.  When we finally make it into the bed, J and I compare bruises like badges of honor.  This means we need to get a new dresser, and maybe two of them, since we both, you know, have clothes.

The desk we brought with us swallows the entire spare bedroom, so we listed it for sale and ran out for a new one.  Neither bedroom fits a queen-sized mattress, so we bought a sleeper sofa.  There’s no room for a media cabinet, so we bought a new flat-screen TV and wall-mounted it on a swinging arm.  I realize these are the first-world-iest of first world problems, but for fuck’s sake.  We’re hemorrhaging cash in order to end up with LESS STUFF, and I, for one, find this to be ASS BACKWARDS.

With a little luck, this massive purge will save our bacon down the road, when we move again, although at this point, the very sight of a moving box might make me completely lose my shit.

In other news,  the weather here has been eye-searingly gorgeous.  We’ve biked, we’ve done yoga in the park with a rasta on the drums in the background, we’ve sat outside at the coffee shop for hours.  THIS is why people never leave California.  Our other pastime, or rather mine, since J works, is to incessantly vacuum.  When we left Seattle, it was a minor miracle if the mercury rose above 60, and there was certainly no sun in evidence, despite it being LATE JUNE.  This means the three cats were still sporting full winter coats upon our arrival here.  Commence POWER-SHEDDING.  There is cat hair everywhere.  In my closet, in the sheets, in rumbling hairballs that whip up into mini hair-tornadoes every time the ocean breeze passes through.  They seem to be doing this shedding while also laying VERY STILL on the hardwood floors, so I vacuum around them, only to turn the vacuum off, stow the cord, and walk back into the living room, which is once again coated in wispy white hair.

The good thing about all this, is, of course, that I am too busy with the unpacking, and erranding, and the vacuuming to spend too much time stressing out about the fact that I’m getting married in a month.  OH SHIT.

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