OMG I hate freakin' moving yargh!
So, yeah, it's annoying and horrid, and if you have a cat who was abanoned at a high school in his carrier, he'll probably take three days to even start talking to you again after it's all over, but it's done now. I'm starting to feel better about life. And my drive to work this morning was so completely drama-free as I took side streets from my house to my work, five miles away.
Oh. Yeah. Uh-huh.
I was totally planning on going to work yesterday, but I actually did not have the ability to either move or open my eyes. I called in about an hour and a half after I was supposed to have shown up, and then I went back to bed until about 11 in the afternoon.
Regret it, I don't.
My mom took me out yesterday for a mani-pedi, which I usually find really annoying because I hate people touching my feet, but it was nice to just relax and let someone else do the work. My toenails are all now uniform in size and shape, and painted a lovely midnight-blue, and my fingernails...well, they sort of look like the monster's head from Frankenstein comics, and the middle fingernail on my right hand looks like a rat's been chewing on it since it got stuck between two shelves while I was holding one and the other one came crashing down on it. But...they're good. The cuticles are clean and they're filed and I'm sort of feeling human again.
The inside of the house sort of looks like a hurricane hit it right now, but I'm hoping that I can get everything in order by this weekend. In a strange state of denial about how bad things were, I put the vacuum into the broom closet because that's where it goes, by gum. Sure I have about three hundred books just loitering about the living room and I haven't hung up my over-the-door-shoe-caddy yet, but that vacuum had better get into the broom closet!
Yeah, I'm crazy. But I'm all right with it.
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