I suppose people should move every three decades or so

So, having lost at Ontario's Landlord-Tenant Board and then at Divisional Court, it seems I'm outta here by the end of the month.

I have been evicted.

(I don't blog on personal stuff. There was some interest in my fight elsewhere though, so I hope others will be patient while I bring those people up to date. I may blog on the eviction fight later. It was very instructive.)

I moved here when I was a student and never saw a reason to leave. (Rent control, while it lasted, was a pretty good reason to stay, too.) I moved a lot as a child and young adult, so it was a whole new thing for me to have a home of my own.

I moved in with very little. But I seem to have accumulated quite a bit of shit.

A few days ago, I did clothes. I'm pretty good about tossing stuff that I don't wear, that doesn't fit, or that was a mistake to begin with, so that wasn't too bad.

I did books a couple of weeks ago. Again, I'm pretty good about recycling those too.

Today, though, I did paper. I sorted and shredded a whack of it a few months ago, but today I got into deep storage.

Yowza.

Business records from twenty years ago. Peculiar correspondence found in a file helpfully labelled 'Peculiar Correspondence'. Letters and postcards and old employee photo IDs.

A novel I wrote twenty years ago. Short stories, some finished, some now incomprehensible. Thank the goddess -- no poetry.

Almost three decades of my life.

I'm exhausted. And I'm not done.