I am headed to the other coast in just a few weeks.  Subsequently, I have been looking around my apartment, trying to evaluate:

  • Where did all this crap come from?
  • Am I taking it with me?
  • Hey, what’s that smell?  Oh, it appears that the cat threw up in this closet.

What am I taking?

  1. Cat
  2. Clothes
  3. Passion for osteology
  4. Laptop
  5. Espresso machine
  6. Relevant literature to graduate school program
  7. Giants baseball cap (don’t get started on Barry Bonds, I don’t want to hear it)
  8. 8 x 10 photos I took, but not the phrames
  9. Bed and bath (sheets and towels, but not Beyond)
  10. Fear of bugs crawling on my face at night while I am sleeping

Here’s what I am not taking

  1. Boyfriend
  2. Furniture
  3. Bone collection (we will meet again, my fragile friends)
  4. Pots and pans
  5. Loathing of undergrads (think of Benjamin, he was all right)
  6. Decorative, nonfunctional typewriter
  7. Cool summers, warm winters
  8. Access to extensive ‘The Simpsons’ archive
  9. Three pairs of worn out flip flops
  10. Home

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