I haven’t been buying things unless I absolutely had to, because I was going to be moving, so the less stuff I had to pack, the better.
Except I ran out of alcohol.
This would be fine ordinarily, but I’m down to the last bits of packing, which means I have to confront the Boyfriend Box — a bunch of relationship remnants I’ve had tucked away, out of sight and mind in the closet, for more than 2 years. Like everything else in the apartment, I’m going to go through it and see what needs to be kept/tossed/donated.
So I picked up a six-pack of Dogfish Head Namaste beer. For, um, inner peace. Yes.
Bonus: I won’t have to pack the beer if I drink it all. But worst case, I move a few bottles to the new place.
Namaste, a quiet night at home, and all of Fiona Apple’s albums on shuffle.
Let’s dance, feelings. I ain’t scared.
Smug Singleton 