The Dregs

So I'm heading northward in the next fortnight. For those of you who follow these things with glee, I really don't say fortnight as part of my everyday speech. Nor do other Canadians I know. Unless they are the madly anglophilic kind of Canadian or they read too many Enid Blyton books.

Anyway, departure looms, which means moving, which is quite honestly dead last on the list of things I would like to be doing right now, getting all my other work done being on the top of that list and kicking back and having some fun for once being a close second.

But this also leads to the moving food problem. I've been scaling down the food that I keep in the house over the last month or so and am left with the weirdest combinations of things, which occasionally lead to bizarre meals. For dinner last night, I poached an egg in the microwave and made some toast and ate it with some edamame. I'm out of juice, but I have lots of flour. Lots of rolled oats and brown sugar (so have been eating oatmeal for breakfast and dinner a lot) and have whole bag of spinach to get through. No butter but a whole container of sprouts.

Also, I guess in theory I should be moved out of here by Saturday, even though I'm not leaving town until the 11th. I'm still clinging to the hope that someone will sublet this place, though, in which case I could conceivably hang around here a little longer. Whatever, I just have to bite the bullet and call my landlady.

They say moving is the second most stressful thing to fill your time with other than death of a loved one or divorce, but whoever made that list doesn't go to film school.