I sat down on my couch tonight and couldn't move. Do you know that point that you get to when you have so many things going on at one time that you can't think, can't move, can't function?
I'm so there.
So here I am wasting a few minutes blogging...something that has absolutely nothing to do with ANYTHING that I need to get done. Go figure.
I decided that maybe if I started to put it into words, it wouldn't seem so overwhelming and I'd feel better.
I'm moving a week from Sunday.
I have boxes piled everywhere. I have a large number of boxes stacked around the doors to my balcony. I can't use my balcony since it's been continuously under construction, so it seemed like a good place to stack boxes. Today, I was just notified that the construction workers need to enter my apartment next week and I have to clear a two foot area around each door. Are you kidding me? I'm moving a WEEK FROM SUNDAY! I'm seriously thinking about creating a wall around each door - with a two foot cleared area adjacent to the door, of course.
I have a paper due for school on Sunday....which I haven't started because I've been packing. Come to think of it, I may have packed my school books. Shit.
My daughter seems to have either a softball game or softball practice every day for the next two weeks.
I have to be out of town for 3 days next week to attend my grandfather's funeral. Oh yah, did I forget to mention the death in the family?
Which means that I have to have everything packed up by next Wednesday.
And arrange the piano mover and the painter to return the apartment to "original condition" and change over the cable and electricity and all the other stuff that goes with moving.
And be kick-ass at work.
And deal with my mess of a personal life. Things that should have been resolved long ago are still trying to figure out how to resolve...now...during this perfect storm of shit.
No...this little exercise didn't make me feel any better.
So here I sit. Frozen into inactivity. Staring at American Idol. Not really watching it. Although I do kind of dig Steven Tyler's sparkly purple jacket.
I acknowledge that this isn't the least bit entertaining for you. It's actually starting to stress me out a little more that I'm about to post something so fucking lame. So I'm going to quit here. Consider it your good deed for the day for listening to me vent for a minute or two. It's good karma.
There is some consolation that the stress does not seem to be affecting the Princess. She's sitting next to me on the couch, sipping sparkling cider out of our one unpacked coffee mug and laughing hysterically at Steven Tyler's sparkly purple suit.
It's good to be eleven.