It's Sunday morning-ish, I've had my coffee, and there's a lot I should be doing to wrap up this last semester and my graduate degree. However, I can't seem to break from the distraction that all of this, the scattered and jumbled little world of my apartment in Portland, needs to be packed up in a little more than a month. I don't own very much, but I do own enough to unfold, like a spring-loaded jack-in-the-box, into a comfortable little space with all my essential needs met. The packing is a little more dramatic this time because it's all going into storage for the next couple years. The physical stuff is the least problematic. I think what's stressing me out is the realization that all the little bits and pieces of life, all those passwords, memberships, and monthly bills, need to be written down, deactivated, and turned off before I leave. A more perfect example of modern angst could hardly be found.