Yesterday was…rough. I didn’t feel well, dialysis killed me, I was frustrated and this all culminated in a despair spiral. Very dramatic.
So I got home and there were two packages. One was Grant’s baseball cap, because hoodie weather is almost over. The other was addressed to me.
Here is what was inside: Ok, there was gonna be a picture, but I can’t figure out how to do it on the iPad so I’ll just tell you. A pair of beautiful grey Saucony sneakers with turquoise trim. I mean, these kicks are sweet. They were in my size and fit like a dream.
And they were totally anonymously sent.
RANDOM SURPRISE SNEAKERS.
Some life, huh?
Also, when I got up this morning, I felt significantly less crazy and I went back online and found a truck with unlimited miles for about $450.00. I am selling all my bookshelves, probably my couch, definitely my chair, lots of my appliances (but not my fry daddy), probably my lamps and definitely my filing cabinet. I hope that gets me close enough, with gas and stuff.
So, to recap: yesterday, wild psycho drama. Today, mild mannered librarian. Shut up.

*SIGH*
The thing about an anxiety disorder,the important thing, is that it doesn’t matter at all if the upcoming thing is positive or negative. The anxiety ratchets up no matter what.
I was planning on leaving Seattle in the fall, but due to the desires of the owner of my building, it’s not possible.
So I am scrambling around like a lunatic in a way that makes both Grant and Kato seem sane.
The choices are: sell everything except the cat, the linens, and the family pictures and go, I can rent a truck and and starve, or I can rent a car, a trailer and take only my couch and bed.
Of course, when I mention that last one, I am taking the cat and family pictures and linens.

Now, I am at a place where I can do nothing about any of this, so watching it repeatedly run though my head is tiresome AND exhausting. Fortunately, I have someone that can help me stop being insane, and I will be calling her tonight.

I am trying like hell to get my shit together to move and, as per usual, I am at a standstill. I am really good at the other end of moving, the unloading and unpacking part. I can unpack a house in less than a day.
But the packing up? I seriously suck at this part. I am so easily distracted that, more often than not, I would end up throwing shit into plastic bags on moving day. It has been so bad that Fathead has sworn never to help me move ever again.
So here I sit, trying to figure out where the hell to start, wishing the plastic tubs I ordered would arrive so that I can pack up everything fabric with mothballs, because those goddamned bugs are back and are freaking me the hell out.
I fucking hate bugs.

Ahhhhh, you think I’m joking, right? WRONG! It’s true.
I am leaving the verdant hills of Seattle for the timelessness of Joshua Tree. My folks are living there and I realized after this last visit that I really wanted to live closer to them.
It’s also getting way expensive to live in Seattle, and I can make my meager portion go a lot further there than here. Hell, for half the price of the apartment I currently rent, I could get a two bedroom house.
So I am starting the hardest part of the process for me, which is the purging of unnecessary belongings. I am easily distracted, so this part is always a painful, almost excruciating process. Therefor, I am recruiting Sizzle, who can organize and motivate like a motherfucker, and she will force me to get shit done. It is her density, man.
All jokes aside, I’m pretty sure Sizzle could successfully organize an invasion force. She has these skills.
So to all my California peeps especially, I will be in the hood soon. You may want to gird your hips.

So I am back from CA. It was awesome, but I am glad to be home.
I made a meat sauce with sausage and ground beef. Came out pretty good, even if I do say so myself.
And now I am on the couch, watching Slap Shot, with the cat on me. The cat was apparently traumatized by my absence and there has been much yammering every time I am out of his sight. He seems to have determined that the most effective way keep track of me is to be on me at all times. Little bastard.
Sadie, my youngest niece, insisted on sleeping with me, and as a result, I got very little sleep. It’s amazing how such a tiny person can kick me in the back with the force of Bruce Fucking Lee.
By the way, I am writing some book reviews for Peaches Magazine, partly because it’s run by Palmer, who is awesome on the atomic level, but also because it is about time there was a magazine for and about women that is not devoted to telling us how inadequate we are.
So you can check out my review and some of the other cool stuff. Let me know how you like it.
Now, excuse me, the cat and I need to go to the bathroom.