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A house full of boxes

A dude just showed up with 75 cardboard boxes and tape, so it looks like I have a lot of work ahead of me before we go to Denver tomorrow. We’re getting a full-on moving thing with the dudes packing everything, but they’re willing to shave off a few bucks if I pack my books myself. And I guess I feel like doing that anyway, since I don’t want someone denting all of my Bukowski and Kerouac or whatever.

[Oh, if I didn’t mention it elsewhere, tomorrow I’m just going to Denver until Tuesday. I don’t actually leave leave until the 25th.]

So yeah, going to Denver tomorrow, and I haven’t even thought about it. And I have 75 boxes in the hallway, and I need to write this damn book. So why am I still writing here? Off to work.