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I took a week off (meaning I decided to say no to potential assignments) in order to move out of my apartment at my own pace. It’s going ok, but not any faster than I feared. On the contrary, it feels like keeping all this junk for so many years is a seldom display of scornfulness against oneself. I found 3 laptops from another era, my parents’ entire harvest of hazelnuts back from 2013 or something, all my curriculum compendiums from who knows when and lots of bits and bobs from when I was a poor student.

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Moving out

Three weeks to go and my apartment will be someone else’s. I haven’t usually been that emotionally tied to the flats I’ve lived in, in fact, I normally can’t wait to move and start over somewhere else. And I haven’t been that youhuu-happy in it, either, still, for one reason or another it’s a really really sad departure.

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