There is an amazing difference in the state of Pete now versus just a month ago.
I don't want to turn this into a LiveJournal, but things have sort of come to a screeching halt lately. I've been back at home for a few weeks now, and still all I have unpacked is my clothes and the PS3 (or "the essentials," as many have rightly joked). I can't bring myself to unpack anything else. There are some practical reasons for this; my room is a mess, full of old stuff I don't care about but also don't want to throw out, and the basement is still only half-finished, the odd pile of lumber still laying around with boxes of stuff that should probably be thrown out.
The actual reasons for not having unpacked are more troubling. Part of it is because there's noplace I really want to put my stuff. I don't want the PC in the room, I don't want the PS3 and stuff to be on one floor, my PC on another in the basement or something, and my bed and clothes elsewhere - I guess this is the nature of living in a two-floor-plus-basement house, but after living in single-floor setups for years, it's kind of annoying. Bigger is the fact that I just don't like this place. I hate my room, the basement is big and cavernous and weird (and still not finished), and the first floor doesn't really have space for anything but my PS3 and DVDs, which I never even get to use since the TV is always in use during the evenings (after my parents go to bed I can use them but the volume has to be painfully quiet).
Maybe I just don't want to accept the fact that I once again live here. I don't have a problem living with my family, really, but this place, I hate it, it makes me uncomfortable. I liked going back downtown for a while, but my job has become so entirely stressful (my three jobs to be more specific) that the area I had grown so attached to is getting on my nerves, too, and I'm somewhere in the middle without anyplace I can feel comfortable in. It's not a good place to be.
I spent all of today in a cycle of sitting around, playing video games I have no interest in playing, going downstairs and trying to figure out how to set up stuff in the basement, seeing how it won't work out right now for various reasons, then remembering the reasons I didn't want my stuff in the basement in the first place, getting fidgety and depressed, going outside and doing a lap or two, wash, rince, cliche. For the whole goddamn day.
It would have been a bitch to live real far up or down on the red line, but I should have just found an apartment, or asked if one of the guys out here wanted to move in. In hindsight, that actually would have been a real good idea. Too late now.