Excepting a few things I may have accidentally left behind, my stuff is back in St. Catharines; some of it for the first time. It's an odd feeling to leave home. That's what it feels like - Waterloo is home now. In the last four years, I have spent four months here in St. Catharines, four months in California, and the rest in Waterloo. Ernie looked horrified at this revelation.

But now my stuff is here. My room is full. Why shouldn't it be? It contains almost twenty-three years worth of my life, minus whatever is in the hallway and living room. What affects me most these days, at least; there aren't any baby things around.

The box containing most of my books split in transit. Spilling out into the trunk were textbooks, novels, course notes, everything. A Prayer For Owen Meany lies next to Unix in a Nutshell. The Godfather seems to preside over the mayhem. Some of the books have been in storage for long enough in a bad enough position that they have become damaged. My Java Structures book, the once-upon-a-time CS 134 textbook, has a curve in it. Impressive, as it is a hardcover. Meanwhile, my copy of Beowulf is miraculously undamaged. It's a good metaphor for my mind - it feels like it has been split open. The computer science is damaged goods, while the artistic and the archaeological feels much more viable. Maybe this is but the hangover from exams. Maybe this is me conveniently ignoring my classical studies texts being mauled.

A golf ball is the last thing to be removed from the box. It makes me think of Lynn and smile. This particular golf ball has nothing to do with her, as it has been in my possession for much longer than I've known her. But we did mini-putt today, and that's enough. I'll miss her.

I think perhaps I'll reread Beowulf now.