Little Creek Station - deactivating
Apr. 30th, 2007 12:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
The house on Flowerfield looked distractingly weird last night. My steps echoed through the empty bedrooms. There was once again room to park a car in the garage. The chipped marble tile in the dining room was no longer covered with brightly-colored foam flooring.
I headed over there at 10am Sunday, to let a friend in who wanted the old futon. 14 hours of numbing, back-breaking work later, it's all empty. The last piece of Lego, the last click-base figure, the last six-sided die all found temporary homes in corrugated cardboard.
Last night I was too desperately tired to feel anything. This morning, I'm not sure what I feel.
At least I'm done battling the oil heater.
I headed over there at 10am Sunday, to let a friend in who wanted the old futon. 14 hours of numbing, back-breaking work later, it's all empty. The last piece of Lego, the last click-base figure, the last six-sided die all found temporary homes in corrugated cardboard.
Last night I was too desperately tired to feel anything. This morning, I'm not sure what I feel.
At least I'm done battling the oil heater.