reluctant decency

I’m spending more time in the spare room these days, as I slowly move my life out of the living room. It’s a drastically different setup for me – in fact, I’m taking over Ed’s Jerker desk (we stupidly got rid of mine two desks ago because it didn’t fit in my corner of the North Van living room) and selling the enormous one I’ve been using for the last three years (does anyone want a huge desk? cheap!). The sheer volume of stuff I kept on my old desk has to change, as I’ve got a lot less surface area to work with. This isn’t a bad thing – I’ve purged a great deal of stuff, which makes room for other, better stuff – but it’s going to take a lot of work to make the house livable again, which is likely causing Ed nightly conniptions. He is not alone in his anxiety, because the move is going to make things different in more ways than one: I have to start wearing clothes at home.

One of the nice things about the space are the enormous windows that fill an entire corner; my computer is set up in such a way that I can look outside yet avoid most of the glare on my monitors. However, windows are two way – which means my habit of lounging around the house in the all together is going to have to change, and quickly. It’s like there’s a fucking force field around that corner of the room – if I’m not wearing clothes, I CANNOT go to my desk. Even if it’s just for a second. Even if the blinds are closed, or it’s dark outside, or it’s 3 in the morning and no one is around except the spine-snipping hobo. I’m going to love having my own room once everything is set up properly (and all these keyboards go away – why the fuck does Ed have so many keyboards), but I may have to go out and buy some house lounging stuff to hide my shame from Hastings Street because I love my vagina far too much to let just anyone see it from across the street.

The move is going a little too slowly for my liking, because I am impatient and have a messed up internal clock. Most of the purging is done, but I ran out of room to sort things so I forcefully declared last night as relocatey times. Today I’m shuffling things around to make room for others – it’s like one of those sliding block puzzles, where you have to move things over in the allotted space in order to extract one piece (in this case, Ed’s hideous green chair that makes me feel like I’m sitting in a highchair) – but I’ve hit another brick wall. I may be a Proud Independent Black Woman, but I officially need Ed’s help because others tell me it would be somewhat rude for me to throw his things around all willy nilly in my haste to set up my Lady Cave. I want to do it NOW, though. Furniture is ready to be moved, and I am simply not mighty enough to do it on my own (believe me, I’ve tried). This means waiting until Ed has time to help me, what with his being gainfully employed and unfairly demanding sleep and all. Complicating matters is my hopping social calendar, which has me out of the house all weekend volunteering at Indie I Do on Saturday and going to a meatball party on Sunday – so the house (and more importantly MY STUFF) won’t be less everywhere until sometime next week.

I left the blinds raised a little so the cats could look out the window, and I have a great view of the passenger seats of cars when they stop at the light – this is why I know there are a lot of very pregnant women riding shotgun in East Van this afternoon. How odd.

I have to go finish putting on clothes (this won’t be a cold turkey change; I need to ease slowly into being decent at all times) – it’s time for Indie I Setup and hopefully tacos.

this did not get purged. old timey porn is good times, hairy nipples and all.

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