Dear readers, We're moving on Monday and it feels like all the stress of moving has concentrated itself in one single object. The Bookcase. I'm staring at it now as I write this. It looks back at me in its half-dismantled state and, if it could talk, it would ask me in a disdainful tone: "How could you do this to me?". I don't know what to reply. I feel guilty, Tom feels guilty. It shouldn't have come to this. Monday the movers are going to come and they're going to break you into pieces, and it will all be over.
Week 10: Tale of a bookcase
Week 10: Tale of a bookcase
Week 10: Tale of a bookcase
Dear readers, We're moving on Monday and it feels like all the stress of moving has concentrated itself in one single object. The Bookcase. I'm staring at it now as I write this. It looks back at me in its half-dismantled state and, if it could talk, it would ask me in a disdainful tone: "How could you do this to me?". I don't know what to reply. I feel guilty, Tom feels guilty. It shouldn't have come to this. Monday the movers are going to come and they're going to break you into pieces, and it will all be over.