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?
- Passion for osteology
- Espresso machine
- Relevant literature to graduate school program
- Giants baseball cap (don’t get started on Barry Bonds, I don’t want to hear it)
- 8 x 10 photos I took, but not the phrames
- Bed and bath (sheets and towels, but not Beyond)
- Fear of bugs crawling on my face at night while I am sleeping
Here’s what I am not taking
- Bone collection (we will meet again, my fragile friends)
- Pots and pans
- Loathing of undergrads (think of Benjamin, he was all right)
- Decorative, nonfunctional typewriter
- Cool summers, warm winters
- Access to extensive ‘The Simpsons’ archive
- Three pairs of worn out flip flops