Sweat on the cardboard

(like frost on the pumpkin, only less classy)

Packing continues apace, interrupted only by my temporary collapses from heat exhaustion, crying jags, watching old X-files with a glass of chard, and the odd cocktail party. Strangely, on this move, I've broken more things than I've ever lost in any previous move. Everything remotely fragile in my studio (not counting china and crystal, please baby jesus) has been dropped, stepped on, or has rolled away from me, seemingly of its own accord. Hand painted ceramics from Eastern Europe, random Portuguese vases, the odd piece of pottery that made it here in my suitcase from the middle east but then flung itself off a shelf. It's as though my belongings need me to purge them before I leave for the south.

I'm trying to make the rest of my things feel better about the move by playing southern music and songs featuring "Georgia." We've had the one John Mayer song I love, "Why Georgia" (which I think is a fabulous song, honestly!). We've had some Allman Brothers, because I feel a little "Tied to the Whipping Post." We've listened to some Otis, some Ray Charles, some Indigo Girls, some B-52s, some REM. (That's right. Georgia has culture out the hoo-ha!) I might branch out to the Southeast and include some Tom Petty or some Dolly. We'll see how my things are feeling. Hopefully stabilized.