This guy — just recently married my old roommate. His account of post-honeymoon life cracks me up.

clean, organize, unpack, wash clothes, clean, smoke a cigarette, go to work, clean, stop to eat something, smoke, think about what to clean next, try and summon the energy to stand back up, smoke another cigarette, think about how I should be cleaning, walk to a room to clean, stand in the doorway trying to figure out where to start, smoke another cigarette instead, throw away a pop can, open another can, smoke a cigarette, go back to the room and move some boxes around without really cleaning anything, smoke a cigarette, bed.

ugh.

I suppose we were lucky, in a way. We came home from Quebec to a house that was mostly empty, full of echoes and bachelor items. My parents’ brought my furniture down three weeks later, leaving me time to properly orient myself to the objects in the house, and build some defences against the oncoming torrent of earthly possessions and gifts.