I found a microwave last night at Fry's and Roommie found my toaster oven last night stored over my truck.

I still need some chairs for the dining table she's leaving me and a pair of oven mitts and I'm good to go. Oh, and a coffee table would be wonderful. You know, something to put my feet up on when I'm watching tv.

With the prospect of her leaving, and probably myself as well within the next month, I find that I am reluctant to do anything that resembles cleaning or taking care of my living space. I know that this is not a very healthy attitude, but that's just the way it is. There are boxes everywhere, from her moving out and from my getting stuff to replace that which she's taking, and I'm not exactly sure how long it's been since the bathroom or the kitchen was cleaned.

Essentially what has happened is that my apartment is no longer my home and I don't really care about it. Even when she's gone and I'm the only one there, I don't want to get too comfortable, as I don't intend to keep it. It's too big, and I'm afraid that if I stay there, not only will it bleed my savings account dry, but my possessions will expand to fill it and then, when I really do move, I'll have too much stuff and I'll have to get rid of most of it. I really need to get moved into someplace I like and expect to stay for at least a year, so that I can feel grounded again.

I don't mind moving. I just don't like looking for a place.