It’s 10pm. The movers will be here at 9 sharp tomorrow morning to take away two years of accumulated crap to my new apartment downtown.
I am totally inept at packing. It’s taken me days and days, and I’m still not finished. It seems that the more boxes I collect, the more shoes, bottles of perfume, dishes I have. Packing is a lot like Parkinson’s Law, which states that work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion. Only instead of the time it takes to complete a task, it is the boxes it takes me to fill up with my random collection of living supplies.
Once I acquire a box, I find another pile of books.
I call this Packer’s Law.
Categories: City
Tagged: apartment, books, box, boxes, crap, dishes, moving, packing, parkinson's law, perfumes, shoes, time, work
I can swim. It took me a few years to learn, but I finally, hesitantly, learned. But I won’t show you.
When I swim I look like I am drowning, but somehow manage to stay afloat. And I have to hold my nose. On second thought, I wouldn’t look so ridiculous if I didn’t have to hold my nose. For example, I can do a perfectly acceptable dive . . . with a face mask on. And I can float on my back for hours.
Still, I prefer hot tubs to swimming pools anyday.
Categories: Vignette
Tagged: dive, face, float, hot tub, mask, nose, swim, swimming pool
