Thursday . . . I’ve been moving for the past two weeks. On the job, eight hours, driving one hour to, one hour fro, then working three more hours packing, and then on my two days off I’d been packing, moving and cleaning all day. Now that except for some unpacking, hanging of pictures, building of bookshelves, and getting a hold of a compact entertainment center for the eight pieces of equipment needed to, well, entertain me, I am finally through with my westward migration deeper into Mexizona.

This afternoon, at his apartment in my same complex, Mainio and I were watching a DVD on his new HD flatscreen and we heard a frightful explosion–not on the screen, but outside. Since the ‘ba-boom’ wasn’t accompanied by an earthly rumble, sirens or body parts landing on his second floor balcony we ignored the audio interruption. By the end of the movie (having had intimate experience with floating advertising orbs) he decided, as it was no longer bobbing perilously near the paring-knife-sharp fronds of a forty foot palm tree, it must have been the apartment complex’s helium-filled advertising balloon that burst and freed its contents to escape back to Sol from whence they came.

Everything comes at its appointed time. This move was just ‘a move’. A chance to further whittle down my holdings as I gave away everything from a back-up coffee maker to a seven-foot tall oak entertainment center designed more for homes than apartments.

We probably fetched over forty used boxes from the good folks at Borders bookstore and filled them with, what else but books? As I unpacked boxes not opened since my original divorce-driven move in September of 2003, almost exactly four years prior, I was amazed at the dozens and dozens of titles I had read over the years. I’m needing two more six or seven feet tall bookcases before I can unpack all my books and even then I’ll probably have to slap shelves up on the walls of my RV-sized living quarters. In case you’re wondering why all the books must be shelved, it is so that (once properly organized) they may be referred to and more necessary be seen and touched by the reader bringing back emotions and memories of knowledge gained.

I rented U-Haul vehicles on three separate occasions for the move, which made it needlessly expensive. I’ve arrived at a formula for sizing the moving truck to the move. And that is the square feet of the place you are moving from is the bare minimum of moving truck cubic feet you need.

Now that I’ve finally flushed the Wellbutrin XL from my system, evidenced by the fact my allergies have returned–since it also blocks the histamine receptors in the brain–I feel somewhat alive again. I’ve stopped seeing so many weird things like crouching men who were really bushes and wild pigs who were really u-bent pipes. I’ve begun to clearly think about my future–but still not lift a pen, a foot or a phone to begin to attain it.

And now that it is safe to self-medicate again (for SSRIs and alcohol tend to generate deadly seizures) I’m sitting down with Jose Cuervo at seven in the morning shortly after getting home from work, but I’m not sure why. I’m telling myself its what I need to sleep, since I, like a vampire, sleep during the day. Unlike Nosferatu’s cramped quarters, my bedroom window glows as if I were in a space capsule during re-entry. So today, not having the energy to hang the black-out curtains that Mainio forfeited when he moved out, I simply nailed up white foam poster board over the blazing glass. Still I was able to sleep for only ninety minutes.