Wednesday, July 10, 2013


Today, I flushed pills down the toilet.

I'm cleaning out. Trying to pack. Bulgaria is in seven days.

Wednesday July 17th.

7 bottles worth of left overs. I can't remember being sick 7 times. Perhaps several bottles went with one illness or severe pain episode. Kidney stone. Wisdom Teeth. Bladder. 7 for 3 then. Oxycodone most of it. I hated that pain killer. Couldn't think on it and it made me angry and pissy. I wasn't sure what the responsible way to get rid of addictive substances would be. Hannah said that she heard a nurse tell her son to flush it down the toilet after his wisdom teeth incisions healed up. Said she watched him herself.

So I flushed them. They were all expired anyway, dissolved into little yellow and white powders before they even hit the porcelain. Just another small piece of the packing settled and concluded.

I have 6 different body washes. 2 shampoos. Why?

And WHAT am I supposed to do with all of those paper clips? Why was there a paper clip in the body wash drawer?

The kitchen is mostly done, dishes wrapped in newspaper and tucked into boxes. I even labelled the boxes to help myself 1+ years from now when its time to put them in cabinets again.

I've read several pages of internet advice on how to pack for long journeys but still uphold that hipster value of minimalistic and stylish. The fact that I've never been stylish is beside the point. I want to know how to pack light and stylish.

I hate packing. It's like taking home and declaring it not home.

I rebel. I avoid. I complain. I evade.

Part of the process. Part of the letting go.

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