I have a few weird traits. Maybe alot. And one of them is a love for unpacking. Moving somewhere new, and figuring out where I'm going to put things. I can't figure out why I like it so much, I just know that I enjoy myself very much while doing it. Know what I mean? I consider it one of my pleasure pains. You know the type of thing You love to do but are never really sure why you keep doing it. Like having a bruised fingernail, for example, and continuously pushing on it even though you know it will hurt. As if for a split second you convince yourself the pain actually feels good. Because it hurts so good.
In my recent move to a new house, I've had the opportunity to fully embrace my corkiness. I'm sort of a pack rat, and I love to collect all sorts of useless junk. I might need it someday, you never know. It's also a somewhat bitter sweet feeling. I'd like to just dive in and solve the puzzle or game of tetris, but I know that the sooner I do so, the sooner it's over. Then I'm just an ordinary guy living in a different location again. Like the feeling of reaching the final hundred pages of a really good book, and even though you want to get answers, you don't ever want it to end as to face the reality of life without being able to read it anymore. Anyone who watched the TV show LOST probably knows the feeling.
As for right now, I'm still "moving". Which, again, seems more fun to me. I'm sure my roommates are not thrilled about this side of me. I have spilled out into the living room with all of my belongings. Clinging to the last few items that remain to be put away. I'll get around to it. I really will. I guess I like change.
Just give me a minute.
