Taming the Wild Corrrugation

For those concerned, I've beaten back the onslaught of cardboard. It's isolated to one holding pen, known as room #2 or more descriptively, the middle room.

That means that I now have some sense of how my junk fits into my space. The score: space 1, junk 0. Perhaps that's not a fair evaluation but it's Saturday night and I'm typing a blog entry. My junk has really stepped it up and filled a lot of square footage. My junk is the man.

The real news is that I found my camera. Literally the last box I opened. Of course I had a special box within a box that had all the stuff from my table including my camera. It's still charged up and I'll take it out tomorrow and snap some pics of Medford, my apartment and post something poetic and lovely.

I've been working now for two weeks. I like them; they seem to like me. I'm enjoying learning new systems and processes within a new industry. I will at some point be able to call myself a supply chain professional. I can call myself anything really. Specs will probably do for most of you.

The surprise for me is everything is going as planned. To a startling degree, in fact. No big surprises, good or bad. The one thing that I underestimated was my commute. Not its length. But that it is not consequential. Five minutes, honest, and I'm at work. Since we're encouraged to keep holy the 5pm end of the day, I often find myself home at 5:10, without any commuting effect. Sweet.

You might be wondering about my emotional life. I'd normally indulge in some histrionics about the wonders of my emotional life but not right now, thanks. I have been on a pretty even keel. Meditating helps and I've started at the gym again. Now that many pieces are in place, I expect to get writing, drawing, all of those arty things.

In the category of things that I can't believe, I will be buying curtains for one of my windows. I think. It's strange that I'd want to do this not under any duress of a team of design martinets. Or at least a posse from Pottery Barn. But I am going to do such a thing in my bedroom. There's something satisfying about imagining a tidy little machine precision geared for my deep sleep. The kind of precision only voile or or velvet can bring.

You started reading this with visions of roiling cardboard and you've been sullied by a man telling you about drapery. That's one thing about the blog: you know that such depravity is possible but you just don't think it will reach into your world. Please forgive me.