I just need to move. That much is clear after I once again spent the day moving my furniture. I did not find enlightenment. You know what else I didn’t find?

1. My apartment is not a gigantic tetris board. Changing the angle of my furniture will not suddenly win me a prize or suddenly bring up a new apartment.
2. The meaning of life will not be revealed once I find the perfect location for my couch.
3. My luck won’t change, and my love life will not improve depending on which corner houses my waste basket. I know. I’ve moved it everywhere.
4. Furniture is not like tea leaves. The arrangement will not reveal my destiny. Also, you can’t drink it.
5. Apparently, I really didn’t hide a treasure of untold fortune anywhere in the apartment. Whatever.
6. My writing will not suddenly start flowing once I’m done– largely because I’m NEVER done.
7. There is no portal to another world in my wardrobe. Who can I talk to about this?
8. I want to write a brilliant script. That has nothing to do with arranging furniture, but I thought I’d just throw that out there.
9. Drinking more wine does not make moving furniture easier. Who knew? It does make me care less, though.  So that’s something.
10. It did not clear my cobwebs, make me look thinner or bring me inner peace– though after moving all that furniture, I won’t have to go to the gym. Small victories.

Is there anything you do over and over again hoping for a magical result?