In the Midst of Moving

The last few days, the reality (or perhaps unreality) of moving has set in, and that's had me in a very odd state of mind, one that has not been overly conducive to blogging. Maybe that will change over the next couple days and I'll get back to it with my now more usual consistency.

I took several pieces of furniture to the new apartment today, and it has me feeling somehow... strange. Since I started living in the house alone almost eight months ago, I have occasionally gone into some of the empty rooms for a few minutes and it's kind of funny. I still think of them according to their old occupancy - this one is Elizabeth's room, that one Gregory's, that one Katerina's.

When I switched to only living downstairs (except for my computers in the loft area of the second floor), the bedroom there became mine. Despite that, I still think of it as "Yia-yia's" room, even though it'll only be a few months until it's been longer that it hasn't been her room than how long she lived there, and before that comes to pass, it'll be someone else's, either the twenty-something new owner's or his parents'.

Despite the fact that I've moved more times than I can recall without careful thinking, there's a fair amount of emotion involved in this one, and I'm not sure I can even really say for sure what it is.