There’s something odd about sitting in a new apartment with all of your worldy possessions still in boxes. On one hand it’s liberating to free yourself of the psychic weight that comes with having lots of “things” staring at you. On the other hand, it can be overwhelming thinking about the formidable task of finding places to actually put all of the stuff away. Especially if you’re a packrat, like Miss Hoadley and me.
The boxes are mostly gone now, but here’s a little bit of new age silliness from a Sunday when it was just me and the boxes.
Sunday, Boxes, Etc.