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Shit

August 12, 2010

Some of you may be scratching your heads and asking yourselves, Where’s Kate these days? Don’t fret, assholes–I’ve just been really fucking busy with school shit and work shit and trying to get used to a new home and life and other shit along those lines. I moved to a sunny little bachelor (=female spinster) apartment last week. Two friends drove here from Calgary in a U-Haul loaded with my shit, shit that I haven’t seen since December 2009. Since then, I’ve been unpacking the shit.

Some of this shit is shit I missed a lot. Like my coffee maker. Instant coffee and expensive coffee shop coffee were infuriating and impoverishing me, respectively. My coffee maker is a $25 Proctor-Silex that I bought at London Drugs in 2007. It’s the #1 cheapest and most basic coffee maker in existence in the world today. And it works great, and I love it, and every morning I give the gods my ferventest thanks that it’s sitting on the counter just a few feet away, waiting for me to overfill it with powder-fine dark-roast grounds and flip its switch.

And my books. I seriously missed the shit out of that shit. There are 20 boxes of books sitting in a corner of my spinster suite because I don’t have any shelves yet. For seven months it’s been the same shit: “You should read [insert title here]–you’d love it. I’ll loan it to you. Oh, wait, no, I won’t, because it’s in fucking Calgary in a storage room. Sorry.” Well, no more. Now when I want to loan a book to someone I’ll just have to find the right box, which will be easy, because I’m so anal that I packed them alphabetically and also labelled the shit out of the boxes.

How the fuck did I go seven months without my Oxford Latin Dictionary and Greek-English Lexicon, to say nothing of the smooth comparative-linguistic stylings of Seattle’s Golden Old Boy, Andrew Sihler? Only the gods know. Obviously, I brought my American Heritage Dictionary of Indo-European Roots when I moved in January, but sometimes that just doesn’t cut the fucking mustard and it’s necessary to consult the OLD or the LS(J) or the New Comparative Grammar of Greek and Latin to get a real sense of the etymological shit that’s going on.

But then there’s all this other shit too, like, I was unpacking my kitchen shit and it turns out I own 19 mugs. Why? Am I planning on having 19 people come over for coffee at the same time? I don’t fucking think so. I didn’t miss any of that shit at all. And clothes. What’s with all these fucking clothes? Who needs this many shirts? Half of them are beat-up old things from 2002, so why didn’t I throw them the fuck out before I moved? What the fuck is my problem? What was going on with my inner monologue as I was packing? Oh, yeah, Kate, definitely save that old raggedy blouse that you last wore to teach a tutorial eight years ago. Definitely keep that. That’s just exactly the type of thing you’ll be wanting to wear in Vancouver. Fuck!!

I guess the good thing about the past seven months was that I realized how little shit I really need or want. I can live happily on 20 boxes of books, plus my coffee maker, plus three suitcases and one cat suitcase of other shit. It’s good to know, especially considering how dirt poor writers are guaranteed to be throughout their lives (once you die, everyone realizes how awesome you were all along and starts buying your books left, right, and centre and your lazy no-good descendants get all the money–which is just one of the many thousands of reasons why I refuse to procreate).

Tomorrow will be a very special day. Stay tuned…

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One Comment leave one →
  1. August 12, 2010 10:47 am

    Wow – 29 expletives in one entry! (…assuming that I didn’t accidentally count “shirts” as an expletive in my casual tally). That’s an expletive word rate of 4.49%. Someone at WordPress should write a plugin to automatically tally this sort of thing.

    So, what the hell is a “cat suitcase”? A bag full of plastic mice and crumpled paper balls?

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