It’s upon us. The cross-town move. It seems like every fiber of my being is directed toward it.
I am intrigued at how it seems like a beast to be fed: it eats attention, it eats effort. I only have so much of those things. I marvel at the things which have been shunted to the side: email, writing, calls to family, most online activities, because my main computing devices are stowed away and it’s a much bigger pain to access them from phone interfaces.
It’s eaten so much effort, I woke only a few hours ago, and already I am ready to sleep for the night. At 4:30 EDT.
It’s a fascinating process. Like a parasite. There is a part of me, detached and faraway, watching my energy being devoured, and theorizing, which I’m sure takes energy of its own. It’s the kind of energy output which makes the process bearable, despite the fact it’s made a domestic of me.
You hear that? It’s made a domestic of me. Wake me when it’s over.