Remember Me?

I'm the one who does the blog called everyday-astrology and hasn't posted for more than a week, what with the pace hotting up and all and going to plays and playing tennis in the three days I have up in Cambridge before coming back down to New York to obsess over yet another book I'm unwilling to part with and put it in the Keep pile before taking it out again and putting it in the Thrift Shop file and then taking it from there and putting it in a new pile vaguely described as Decide Later, except there isn't any later any more because the mover is coming tomorrow and my landlord expects me out by Monday morning.

After packing boxes and making trips to the thrift shop for two days straight there's still a load of stuff to do and I have made the terrible mistake of sitting down to see if anyone's answered my post for 43 Free Anthony Trollope Society Books To Be Picked Up Tonight Or Tomorrow Morning, which of course requires a bottle of beer to calm me down from the excitement of seeing the numerous responses from Upper East Siders anxious to further their cultural horizons.

Fortunately I requested a clause in the agreement with the landlord  allowing me to leave behind any old crap I couldn't get down the stairs (worded somewhat differently by the attorney), although I was thinking more of an Ikea wardrobe and a six foot press-board or whatever it's called bookcase, but nothing was specified so maybe the landlord will be the lucky owner of the six feet of handsomely bound maroon volumes, as anything I leave behind becomes his property.

Enough of this lounging around; there are boxes still to pack, file cabinets to be looked into, treasures to be taken to the thrift shop, a fridge to be emptied and wishes to be sent into the ether that someone will see the post on Craigslist and decide they want nothing more than fifty pounds or so of 19th century literature.