But Ice Cream is Supposed to Make You Stop Crying

I've moved, except for a few little things left at the old place. I feel like poo physically despite having actually hired movers. I think it is all the dust and cat hair that had been lurking under the furniture for eons getting all up in my lungs. Ow.

Part of me thinks I really rushed into the new place thing, since I've noticed that it is sorely lacking both counter space and electrical outlets, two things that are integral to my lifestyle. And general places to store my piles of crap. But the floors are really, really nice and there are high ceilings and the yard is huge (if scarily overgrown and jungle-like). So I'll get some damn furniture and see what happens.

Except now that I'm all moved, the whole reality of the breakup thing has (finally) hit me. I mean, I really am alone, and catless. I went to the ghetto Pathmark yesterday since I had no food and there was buy one get one ice cream. And then I realized: I can pick my own ice cream flavors without regard to a certain someone's perverse enjoyment of ice cream with peanut butter in it. Which should have made me happy, but instead it ended with me crying in the ice cream section. Pathmark employees do not know what to do with a girl crying in frozen foods. Just the feeling that I'd messed up another relationship (even if it was mutual and all), the sudden crushing feeling that I'd be alone forever. Some very cruel voice saying, "No one will ever love you again." I guess I didn't really get over this yet, what with us still living together post-breakup and all. So, wham...right there in Pathmark.