T came over and helped me move the big shit out. Moving is shitty, but we managed to have lots of fun. The storage place closes at 10–which gave us approx 1.5 hours to move out all the big furniture and rearrange it inside my 5×10 space. I was nervous.
Its 9:45 and we’re working on our last load: my bed. There is an elevator full of guys carrying boxes, and T and I squeeze inside the elevator just as the door closes. Unfortunately, that triggered some sort of alarm mechanism, which jammed the door, and trapped us in there for a good 15 minutes. I didnt know whether to laugh or cry. It must have been like 198 degrees F, easily. Oh god, I thought we were going to spend the night in that elevator, just one girl and 4 guys.
But the door did open. And T and I were so thankful, we started racing down all the halls–reaching out to let our fingertips run across rows and rows of corrugated metal–something comforting about that. the rhythm and the lines.
We went back to my place, now practically empty, and watched baseball, drank beer, talked about his new car, and mostly, talked about relationships.
Then C called, and it was like partytime over here. We just laughed so hard reliving all these memories. I was in tears. T went off to smoke, and I stood in the spot where my bed used to be–the indentations were still there. I couldn’t get over the fact that I slept there…that he slept there…that my life as I knew it was now boxed up and in storage, and I have no choice but to move forward. Of all the objects that are gone, its my bed I miss the most.
There’s something so sad about the imprint left by my bed.
