I found out this morning that I have to be totally moved out by tomorrow night. I found this out after I tossed and turned all night and got maybe - MAYBE - 3 hours of sleep. Not the restful kind, either. So I spent most of the day running errands (Spencer helped - thanks, Spence!) and packing. At 9:42 I called it quits because I'm so tired that I actually feel dizzy and nauseated. And not in a small way.
Non-witty, but possibly amusing if you're into slapstick, aside: Does anyone else lose their balance when they're tired? On a few occasions I've gotten out of bed early in the morning and promptly fallen over. End aside.
So everyone send me good thoughts for getting this all done tomorrow. I'm feeling completely overwhelmed and I have no idea how I'm going to do it.
We all knew it was coming, and today it finally started. The long awaited, but never far away, FREAKOUT!
It's been bubbling up for a week or two, but tonight it is officially...official: I've started freaking out about moving and changing my entire life. Once again.
Freaking out is fairly familiar to me, and supposedly there's comfort in familiarity. However - and this is just my untested hypothesis - I kind of feel like I'd be a lot more comfortable if I could manage to NOT freak out. I know - crAZY thought. What can I say? I'm all wacky and stuff.
I really believe that the universe tends to give you not necessarily what you need, but what you expect. And I have tended, most of my life, to expect very little good to come my way. The whys and wherefores of that would take you on a fascinating journey of navel-gazing, and since I like to keep my navel under my shirt and away from prying eyes, I think I'll skip motivation and stick to the bare details.
This year I decided that I would be more honest about what I want out of life, and that I would try to expect more. Old habits and old dogs and old mismatched socks being what they are, I have my ups and downs and sometimes I'm still really cautious about expecting too much. But I'm trying, and all this is really to say that what I expect is friends who will be there, not just when they need someone, but when I do. I try to be a good friend, and being oh-so-very-slightly imperfect, I'm not always A+ material, but I think I mostly do a pretty good job. So why not expect that for me, right? It makes an odd kind of sense, if you squint and look at it sideways.
The universe has totally delivered on that one.*
I wrote a song for you. Too bad Spencer makes it sound like "Tiny Dancer."
*A special shout-out to Kaitlin, who pretty much just met me, yet has gone far above and way beyond.
So, it turns out Kaitlin is actually not a life-like puppet. Oh, the disappointment! But we had some great food, watched some awesomely lame movies, had some more great food, and discovered we have something in common. Mine are the brown ones. Also - the dirtier ones.
We went to a mansion, but it was $8 to get in, so we were all "Suck it!" and walked around the grounds instead. This is my Evil Plotting face. You guys, I am never plotting something evil. But I am always on the lookout for places a serial killer could hide a body. Portland has lots of good places to hide a body. Just so you know.
And these are pictures of me TOTALLY DRUNK at Thanksgiving. JUST KIDDING, FAMILY! Kaitlin so wishes. These are the pictures I was tagged in on Facebook that apparently no one can see because Facebook is a bitch.
Me on the floor, Kaitlin on uppers:
To my right you can catch a glimpse of the world's most ridiculously large TV remote.
Someone cut off the top of my head. It didn't even hurt. Kaitlin laughed as the contents spilled out (dark chocolate, ginger cookies, confetti, and America's Next Top Model trivia. I know - I thought there were brains in there, too. We were both wrong).