On my way to see Dan and Luke and to look at more apartments. This idea of moving again is becoming more and more real and a little freaky. Boxes. I will begin to obsess about boxes. Books. I am determined to be ruthless about giving away books. As much as I might like the idea of reading it, I will never crack the spine of The Collected Letters of E.B. White. Or that biography of Sylvia Plath. Knick-knacks? I will keep moving those small items of sentimental value, like the china doll my grandma gave me, my high school yearbooks, a little wooden block from my first boyfriend.
We keep moving forward. Eddington next stop.