Slippers and TOMson are both pretty much vacated from their park pad and yesterday Daydream was finally kicking things into gear, so I went over to help him move. It was brief, as I had to scamper off to improv, but it got me thinking (surprise!).

Moving. It might be the thing that makes me crack. Makes me grow up.

The idea of going through my things, having to decide what to keep and what to toss, then sweatily stuffing it all in a vehicle lacks a certain appeal.

Don't get me wrong. Moves can be okay; I enjoy some sorting, tetrissing a vehicle to its absolute limits brings a smile, and there's always pleasure in finishing a task. I even have fond memories of moving myself and my sister after my first year at grad school. In that instance my life had been all brain and my body, feeling ignored, was happy to sweat it out.


there's so much to loathe as well.

Finding a new place can be a pain, and until you know where you're going there's a fog of uncertainty perturbing life.

Then, when time syncs wonkily and you need to be out of your old the same day you're into your new, stress levels balloon.

Recruiting friends, securing vehicles then getting it all done. Limited muscle and space means choices must be made, and who likes to make those?

And this is all in terms of the relatively light life I currently lead. Half my stuff sits in my mum's basement but I still dread the thought of packing what's on hand. I'll eventually want to live in my own place (rented or owned) and that means more stuff even.

I like to imagine myself living lightly, but the reality of my room reveals my true nature. I've come into more than a few maps since arriving in Toronto, there are pieces of a child's bed and a three-legged chair across the room, and look at what I happily took off Slippers' hands in the last few days.

(If anyone wants to play board games...talk to me quick because I am turning some of these things into things. And by second things, I mean stuff for a wall [art?]. Bocce will remain bocce however - call me if you want to play. Anytime. I'm think a winter tourney...)

So... Moving and growing up.

I'm lost.

The premise of this post, now that it's written, seems to be growing up means getting lazy and rich - being able to collect stuff, wanting a place to keep the stuff and being able to arrange said stuff in a particular fashion.

I don't think I know what growing up means.

Let's try this.

Someday I want to live somewhere I know will be my home (base) for an extended period of years. And if I have to focus, find a career and make some money to do it, so be it.

Someday. If I have to.


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