Moving is not hot.

My moving is going to be a good idea in practice, when all is said and done, but the process is causing me to be decidedly unhot. Jesus, I didn't even realize I could go in reverse from where I started!

Having lived at the Howard Street apartment for almost seven years, I have come to realize a few things about choosing one's living arrangement for optimal hotness. First, have a parking space. This is essential to getting your beauty sleep and reducing stress. Don't believe me? Fact: when I recently threw out my back, I had to sit in my car for four hours waiting for a parking space within four blocks of my apartment. Have you ever thrown your back out? That was my first time. It was deeply unpleasant and unfamiliar and truly stressful (especially considering I had to evacuate a hotel for a fire during the worst of it). Stress, as we know, is not good for one's skin. Ergo, no parking? Pimpleface, puckermouthed sourpuss. SO NOT HOT!

Location, location, location. I solemnly swear to never, ever have a bedroom that is right next to someone's kitchen and a few short feet from a laundry room. Nothing like waking up to Filipino barbecue wafting into your window and realizing that you might actually be getting some fat deposited on your face. Then there's the thick layer of fuzz on virtually EVERYTHING in the room. Dusting is shitty enough. But as I have been unburying my things from the layers of dust AND lint, I find myself wondering how much of this stuff I've swallowed and conversely, how much of it was sitting on my skin all night, baking in while I slept in the unbearable summer heat. I wonder if lint and dust are fattening. Hmmmm.

Air conditioning is essential. I think that might help dust from baking into my skin. Just a hunch. Also not sleeping due to heat sucks hard. Having to sleep in one's car when the power goes out and it's so hot you cannot breathe, then being eaten alive by bugs is not exactly a recipe for being a penacle of beauty the next day.

Now it's three in the morning, I've spent several hours trying desperately to make sense of all my stuff. I want Niecy Nash (from Clean House) to come in and rescue me from my mayhem and foolishness, but she's nowhere to be found. I also need to shower and I can't because I've not yet purchased a shower curtain for my new place and cleverly removed all the towels from the old one. Not hot.

I think the next time I'm going to move, I won't put off packing until the last effing moment. I feel certain that would make me more attractive. Maybe not to anyone else but me, but hey... that's okay.