Stream of consciousness, flight of ideas, jumbled mass of non-linear thoughts
Packing really sucks. I keep hurting mildly irritating my back. I own too many things; no one give me any more. chans_mcgans, don't sweat your inability to help out with this move. I understand your financial, time, and geographic constraints. Besides, 1_dumb_mick and crashrose will be out to help this weekend. Did I mention that packing sucks? It was much easier and more fun with momtastic's help. Good news for next week: I work 9.25 hours Monday and 10.25 hours Friday. THAT'S IT! Not only is that less than 30 hours, it's also less than 20. Hey, we weren't all math majors; just thought I'd spare you the addition. Though the air is set on 70, I'm sweating. My hands hurt from dismantling a bookcase that could have been moved just as easily in one piece. Hindsight sucks, even if it is 20/20. As I peer into my closet, I realize it may be time to bid farewell to the 1s, 2s, 3s, 4s, 5s, and 6s I'll never wear again. However, I also realize that this lonesome, worrisome packing has left me in a haze of depression that will not be ameliorated by acting out my reluctant recognition of the fact that I'm going to be fat from here on out. Maybe that sad ceremony is best saved for another day. How is it that I skipped from 6 to 14 and up without ever buying any sizes in between? They'd have made good, healthy goal clothes. Meh. And so, hot and sleepy, I bid you goodnight. *yawn* ... *stretch* ... *pass out* Fin.