House cleaning and (un)employment classes swallowed me whole upon my return from Burning Man. The classes, in part, were hideously depressing, there was a day where I came home and almost cried, but at least I’ve brought some peace back to my apartment from the belly of the sad whale. The front closet has been seriously decluttered, the bicycles have been operated on, some mirror frames have been painted white, and at least four boxes of miscellany have been removed from the house, never to be seen again. I also, and this was also depressing, easily halved my wardrobe, by taking all the clothes that are now too small for me and tucking them into a suitcase, out of the way.
Today Lung is taking the remaining bicycles, helping me drop off unwanted parts at the Our Community Bikes recycling program, and swinging me past A Baker’s Dozen, where I hope to sell some of my antique ephemera for grocery money. In the same vein, I’m also looking to find homes for my white frosted glass chandelier and the home made foam-topped storage bench that’s been living in my hall. $25 each, because that’s how much it costs to feed the cats.