A life in boxes

So I’m now t-minus two days from the movers arriving to put 95% of my possessions into a couple of shipping containers where they’ll live for the next couple of months until I get my living situation in Colorado settled. And t-minus five days from embarking on the long drive back up to Colorado. (Without my cats; the boys are staying with Mike until, again, my living situation is settled, and bless Mike for that.)

I used to think that moving was pretty much the worst thing in the world, but I’ve stumbled across something even more awful, which is moving while you have a hideous cold. I wish I could regale you with awesome anecdotes from my first ever Nebula weekend, but to be honest it’s mostly a cough-syrup-colored blur, though I do remember Alyssa Wong’s absolutely fabulous dress. And that I managed to hand her award over to her without either dropping it or getting snot on it, so I feel like I stuck my landing as a presenter.

Here’s hoping I can make the Nebula weekend next year (fingers crossed for gainful employment) and not be sick for it this time so I can actually talk to people and shake hands and stuff.

For now, I’m going to go back to wandering around my apartment, searching for things that still need to be tossed into a box before the major project of packing my portion of the kitchen tomorrow.

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