bedroom armageddon.

I pushed ahead and dismantled the remaining half of my desk today and moved it into the spare room. My desk is huge. It was in the room when I got here, left by the previous occupant, and I bought it and the big king bed for $75 each, a huge deal considering the desk must have been at least $300 and the bed $500 originally. The bed took up too much space and was too high off the ground, so it became the guest bed; the desk is big and black and takes up a lot of space and I never use a desk, so it's become quite a waste. I bought some Metro shelving for supercheap from Mark and Val--$40 for two shelf sets, when the individual shelves are something like $15 each. I have one shelf unit up and in place now, and I love love love it. There's already a lot more space and lightness in the room, and that entire wall is steadily turning into a wall of storage units, which makes me really happy because now I can get the books and clothing off my floor.

That was it, really. I didn't do anything today. I even forgot to eat, for the most part.

But I don't like this journal to be a repeat of "here's what my day was like" unless I have something to say about it. I write this partly to keep a record, partly to let people know what I'm up to, but in the end just to be writing and maintaining my use of language as best I can. I had several English teachers point out that if you stop writing, you lose some words, you forget how to effectively lose others, and in general the ability to clearly communicate ideas in writing atrophies. That seems like a sad thing, especially since I write pretty well about half the time.

I was inspired to listen to Rachmaninov by the Russian guy at work (he might be Ukrainian, but I can't tell the difference, and his name is Felix, which isn't really helpful to me as far as that goes). Felix is nice, and an interesting case of how I make assumptions about people. He works with the Physical Plant guy, and he wears a back-belt and most of his job seems to be moving stuff around. He speaks English well, but not quickly, and my assumption had been that he was a little slow as well. He might be, but before he finally found a job moving things around, he was a QA engineer for several years. Go figure.

Anyway, Felix is a nice guy, and was working the reception desk when I left the office on Friday, and I started singing Bogoroditse devo on my way into the elevator. So I've been listening to more classical music than usual since then, currently re-acquainting myself with Bach's Brandenburg Concertos, which are just tasty.

I can't believe how much more open my room looks now. All of my storage units are either wire or light-colored wood, so you can see through them to the wall and they don't visually take up a lot of space. So. Fucking. Cool.

I can't believe you peed on my ficus tree. (I can't recommend highly enough the best of craigslist. It's just...what the Bay Area is all about, in all its quirkiness.)

(The Socially maladjusted girl seeks geekboy for relationship abuse one is Hep. It's very funny, but a little sad because she's quite insane, not really in a good way, and has a webpage somewhere with the responses she's gotten to the posting. She's not kidding about being brutal and laughing at the misfortune of others, really.)

I wrote something personal, but I'm not quite wanting it to be public yet. I hate that. I feel like I'm skulking. Maybe I shouldn't. But if I'm not ready to not be semi-skulking, then I'm not ready and it won't do me or anyone else any good to pretend otherwise. I've done that many times before with predictable results. So skulking it is.

Not that I'm obligated to spell out my personal life for complete strangers anyway. So there. *thbbbbt*.