So, we have moved into our new place, and it's just He and I, alone. And the cat. This is great. I can't tell you HOW great it is to know that your bills are yours, your mess is yours, and you don't have to ask 2-3 other people if it's ok if you clean/cook/watch something/listen to music. Roomies are fine and dandy, but your own place is better.

Now I just have to find my motivation (and my art supplies).
I haunt Craftster.org like it's water and I'm thirsty.
I stroll through LJ every day so I don't have a huge backlog.
I play Wow because it's there, and most of my friends are too.
I tell myself I should draw something, or paint something, or sew something, or SOMETHING.

Hopefully I will, after I put some stuff away.
We have a mountain of plastic tubs, full of stuff.
A spare room half full. Random boxes in the living room, dining room, and bedroom still.

It took so much effort to move all this stuff in here, and now I don't want to look at it. But if I don't, it'll just sit there, and I'm tired of just having junk to have it, you know?
(we'll also be going through things and saying "Will we use this? No? Bye!" because of the amount of stuff we have)

And yeah, He should help me go through it too...but..mostly...it's -my- stuff. *sighs* I inherited packratism from my father.

I know it'll all get sorted and put away, sooner or later.
It just feels like the mountain keeping me from going anywhere, doing things, being crafty or artsy. And I know that's not true, too, because I had this problem before, and blamed it on other things.

mew.
That's enough out of me for now.
/end rant