So. This moving by yourself thing? Yeah. It really sucks. At this moment in time, I am more than a little disgusted with myself. In September of '04, I was perfectly capable of packing everything I owned on this earth into my little car and moving. Now? AT LEAST three trips in my car, not including my bed, because there is no way in hell that would ever fit, even in the most abstract and awkward way. And because I'm moving on a Wednesday, it's not like I can ask some friends to help and tell them I'll buy them pizza and beer, or some such thing. Joe is going to make a run to help me get my bed. But that's about it. By tomorrow night, my back will be hurting so much that I'm positive it will be numb {should I ever find someone else that can crack or work my back like someone I used to reside with, I will NEVER let them leave me. I would perform all kinds of crazed, deviant acts to preserve that back crackage and workage}. I miss being able to pack everything in my car. Moving in is definitely going to be a cleansing process. Anything I haven't worn or used in the last three weeks is going to get tossed or sold.

Amidst all this moving and remodeling craziness, I've found time to write. I think I've written more fiction in the last five (God, has it been that long already?) months than I've written in the last three years. I'll probably post some of it sometime after tomorrow. Maybe Thursday or Friday?