My project to revive Federation II is going well. Last night we made the Top 10 list at The MUD Connecter. Starting to get more new players checking us out already! Yay! In fact we're #9 at the moment and moving on up.

On the home front, I'm at the end game of my move to Switzerland. Exactly 24 hours from now I leave for the airport. I actually packed the first of my suitcases this morning. I have 1 more large suitcase to pack and then my carry-on bag which has to hold my extra laptop and some fragile stuff as well as things like jewelry and cameras that can't go in the checked baggage.

The 2 "large" suitcases I have are not really very large at all. Not by any definition. I really wish I could have managed to get 2 really big ones, the ones I have aren't anywhere near the size the airline allows as standard.

So I'm sitting here juggling things in my mind. Triage. Trying to figure what to take and what to leave behind. Anything left behind goes in the garbage. So it's a very final and draconian choice I have to make.

I'm still grieving over my books and CDs. I had to leave all those here in New York. My son took them and will store some for me to retrieve later, but most will merge with his collections and well, such is life.

But I'm grieving over the loss of so many of the little things that had meaning to me. I can only pack and take with me so many things, the rest must all remain behind.

And in the end, well, insert some profound quote here. I can't think any more. Just so tired and want this to be finished.

Oh yes, to add to my delight in this process, my housemate has been more than his usual inconsiderate self lately. I've been suffering from bouts of massive abdominal pain both Sunday and Monday. Symptoms seemed like classic food poisoning. But from what? Nothing I could think of. Today I figured it out. I sniffed the milk carton and there's a faint scent of decay. Arrgh!!! It was fresh milk when I bought it Saturday. Absolutely fresh, just delivered and icey cold and I rushed it home and into the fridge. So how did it spoil so fast when it was stored under good conditions? Ah ha! Idiot housemate late Saturday night put a large boiling hot casserole next to it in the fridge. I have told him not to do this. And especially not to put hot stuff next to the milk. But, he never thinks about anyone other than himself and always what is absolutely easiest for himself. So, the milk had a jolly nice warming. Since my 2 episodes of pain followed drinking a large cup of coffee with milk, that was a lead. Today, discovering the funny smell of the milk, I discarded it, bought more and today so far, I'm fine. Looks like spoiled milk was the source.

I will not miss Mars (my housemate). He has been an unreal experience. I can well understand now why his housemates don't last longer than 6 months, most only 3. The other housemate here had his fill of Mars a few weeks ago and simply disappeared. Left. His room is intact. He simply walked away. He's found a new life elsewhere and just decided not to every return to this place.

How sad. I was so joyfull when I moved in here before Christmas. But I was also ignoring that I was spending unreasonable amounts of my time and energy cleaning up after Mars. All the filth and mess he left in the kitchen and bathroom every day. When I realized what I was doing and stopped, that's when the true proportions of the situation became clear. Things like washing all my dishes and cookware before I went to bed. Then in the morning, going to make breakfast, discovering that Mars had used it all, and left it strewn around the kitchen all dirty and greasy, or worse, it had disappeared - he had taken it into his room and it would be weeks before I saw the item again, and then usually because it had broken. He didn't use his own stuff because that was already filthy and unwashed, piled up in the sink or on the stove. Besides, he liked my things better than his. Well, of course he would. My kitchenware was top notch, the dishes were really lovely ones from Finland, the cups slowly collected and large and well balanced and comfortable to hold. His pots were cheap sheet metal or discards from former housemates. Mine were heavy, t-fal lined, glass lids, carefully chosen. It was a constant battle in the kitchen, a losing one. Always losing because he simply didn't care, simply had no respect at all for other people or their property.

So, enough of all that. I must get back to packing and discarding.