moving out, Part 2

The boss and I cleaned out almost all of the rest of our stuff today, then we ordered a pizza. We'll be back tomorrow to get the final load. We're actually leaving some knickknacks that the incoming team might end up throwing out—things like binder clips and other office supplies. Today, I took home my electric fan, a framed Dalma-do (picture of Bodhidharma), my office electric fan (the one that went to the hospital every time I got hospitalized), my huge wall map (I left the small wall map where it was because it's stuck to the wallpaper with double-sided tape; as a map, it also proved to be too crowded and useless for finding even prominent things like the Nakdong River), a street painting my boss had given me, my black skull, a Chewbacca mug (another gift from the boss), and a few other assorted items.

We'll be back tomorrow around lunchtime or a little after. I have to grab a pack of toilet paper that I can now store for home use; I also need to clear out the office fridge of various sauces, bologna (eat it before it's bad!), cheese, and frozen items. The boss has a square, wooden table that he needs to break down and take back with him, plus a few more of his framed pictures, which had adorned our office's walls for years. The boss has long been a collector, and he likes to beautify his spaces with his collectibles. And that'll be that for the office. Nearly ten years there. While I'd normally resent having to do this sort of move-out work while the rest of the country gets a national holiday, (1) I'm aware that there are dedicated people who will be sacrificing their holiday time for the convenience of the rest of the public (public-transit workers, cabbies, food-industry workers, shopkeepers, hospitality workers, airline workers, etc.), and (2) I'm technically on indefinite vacation for the next few months, so a few days' extra work doesn't matter in my case.* It's nice to know I have a financial cushion, and a pragmatic voice in my head has been saying that I might as well start spending that money on something. That said, it's kind of too bad that the "something" is temporary unemployment.

But this really is the best time for me to be working on myself—my health, my skill set, everything. Yesterday's move-out session, with all the stair work I did while carrying loads, signaled to me that it's time I ramped up my own stairs work, maybe even using my weight vest again. That'll get me gasping; I just hope I don't check out from another heart attack while I'm in the stairwell exercising. I'd hate for people to find my sweaty, beshitted corpse (your sphincters let go when you die, you know) crumpled somewhere on the stairs later in the day. That would suck for those people.

Anyway, onward to the next phase.

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*But it's not so pleasant to have a heart attack, then to be told just a few months later that there's no more work.