Niecy, I need you

Got the key to the new place today. I'm less than excited about this whole move. I just don't have the energy for this. And the hallway in the new place smells like old soup. Like my great grandmother's triple decker in Bradford, MA, did. Bitch and moan.

I decided that I would only bring into the new place things that I need or truly want. No fluff. The rest will go away. What's hard is that sooo much of it is fluff. And it's all a mental game. So I have a collection of high heels. But I don't wear high heels. None of these shoes has touched anything but living room carpet. And I got rid of a few pair. But the rest . . . I like them, damn it. They're fiesty. Frankly, they don't necessarily need to leave home, if you catch my drift. But because the well is dry, they just sit in a closet like a whole other personality. Harrumph.

I did bring some stuff to the soupy apartment. Shoes I know I'll wear, fabric, some kitchen tools, bedsheets, blankets, winter coats. But then I stopped. I came back to the current place, sat on the couch, and stared around me--pretty much for the rest of the day.

I feel like my fork in the road offers three paths:

• Just fucking take it all with me
• Just fucking take it all to Goodwill
• Get a small storage unit for a month so I don't feel so overwhelmed

I'm not excited about the first prospect. The point is to get rid of unnecessary stuff. And the third is borderline embarrassing. If I'm going to get rid of stuff, I should just do it--quick like a Band-aid. No pussy footing around. So that leaves me with option #2. Fine, but I have to get this shit out of here, into the car, and off into the sunset. I guess it sounded more logical to move the legit stuff and get rid of the rest, but the rest far outweighs the legit stuff.

It doesn't help that I'm sleep deprived and stressed at work. I'm just moments way from sucking my thumb and lying in a fetal position under my table.

I should go read a book.