Moving
Moving has been very draining and stressful, but also rewarding. Late last night I was confronted with some of the rough-around-the-edges parts of my new apartment and felt like I'd never be able to get them truly cleaned. But this morning I feel much more optimistic. I've already tried several yummy vegan places nearby, and there's a nail art boutique salon on my block I want to go to, too. I'd say we've unpacked about 70% (conservative estimate) with just a few boxes to go. At that point I'll do a deep clean to my heart's content. The bathroom feels like a sanctuary. It's really only the kitchen that made me feel squeamish, but that's more owed to my cleanliness obession than any objective grossness. Bruno has been barking at the new apartment noises, but gets more used to it each day. I've been taking breaks to read Teatro Grottesco, a collection of horror gothic short stories that are each so delectably bite-sized, yet terrifying. The author does such an amazing job of writing esoteric prose that feels like an actually comprehensible stream of consciousness — even in the moments describing impossible phenomena, I find that I can glean all the creepy details without needing to closely read each passage. In other words, it's scary in a way that's both esoteric yet easy to understand because it's narrated in a clear way that's not too surreal, despite the surreal subject matter. My favorite story so far has been the self-titled one, "Teatro Grottesco," describing a transient troupe of psychic villains that exclusively terrorize artists with horrible visions, eventually stripping them of their artistic abilities and ultimately their humanity. (It's really good, I promise.) If you're into horror gothic, I highly recommend it.