So I’ve set the first week in March as when I shall leave my Brooklyn apartment for good. I haven’t contacted the movers yet. And I still don’t have a car (can’t afford one at the moment, so rentals may have to do for awhile). This weekend I am going to make EVERY EFFORT to get my stuff out of my office in Manhattan. My friend Lou stopped by there yesterday, and it seems my landlord has already emptied the space to show it to some future tenant (my lease is up as of the end of February, so that’s fair; just hope I get my security deposit back). But the question remains, where is MY stuff now? Good question, I’d say. That’s why I’ve GOT get there today.
It’s all too much for me. I feel like sleeping all the time. Where am I now. Where am I going. My agoraphobia was fine when I had a real home. For the time being, I have two homes/offices, neither of which function as a reliable home and/or office. I’m lost.
So the only REALLY safe place for me at the moment is under my blankets (following a heavy dose of klonopin, of course).