on monday, i woke up at 6, freezing. the contractors are leaving the AC on 24/7 so that the paint can dry (fs points out that this is going to cost me an arm and a leg), and all the cold air in the house sinks down to my room -- this is fine in the evenings when it's 80-something outside, but by the early morning it's hyperborean, and my duvet is stashed somewhere completely out of reach.

i went back to the old apartment, and took a shower, and cleared out the last of my stuff, a process which involved a tearful parting with half a tub of breyer's peppermint chocolate-chip ice cream that i never got round to finishing. there was also 7/8 of a bottle of tonic water, and 2 bottles of sam adams, which i pressed onto a random and rather bemused stranger in the hallway.

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i had mixed feelings returning the keys to that apartment. on the one hand, i was really growing to hate it towards the end, what with the rodents and trash outside my window; on the other, it represented freedom from responsibility, the ticket that meant that, in one aspect of my life at least, i could just say "screw it". renting fosters apathy. renting hardens you to certain things, but it also makes you soft. at least, i think so. the keys are gone now, and i'm on the wire, and i suppose i'm soon going to find out.