Well, it's early (as you can see by the timestamp... you're observant, my reader!), and here I sit, trying to unclog my brain and get some motivation to tackle the work ahead of me today.
I thought I wouldn't move again, as we all know, after I bought this house, but things happen and life changes and before you know it you're packing boxes and cursing truck rental companies.
Mark and I bought a house together, so that's where I'm moving. It's a construction zone at the minute, as we're doing pretty much a complete remodel on it. The plan had been to have it done before I moved in (or the majority of it), but that didn't quite work out, so I'll be getting situated in a living space that is still a bit (as in 'The Titanic sank a bit') upside down. I'm hoping we'll have most of the work done in the next month or so, but if you've ever done a remodel, you know that a) it runs on time about as much as your average airline, and b) it always costs more than you think it's going to. Tough to say at this point which one of those two things is more responsible for me pulling out all my hair by the roots. I think I'm going to go for the latter, just because who doesn't love hocking their soul to Home Depot? Don't get me started on the fuckwit that sold us flooring... seriously. I could still shoot him...
My eyes are still hit and miss, but at least haven't gotten significantly worse. (For those that didn't read previous posts, I have begun showing the signs of the Lebers Hereditary Optic Neuropathy that is in the family gene pool. Good times.) I can still drive and all that, just try to avoid driving in certain situations that are harder on my vision. My eyes get tired more easily, and focus can be an issue (like reading... my computer default font setting is now jacked up to roughly large enough to be read from the house across the street), but I'm not Stevie Wonder yet, so I'm not complaining. Much. I mean, really, would I be me if I didn't complain at all?
I've been working on packing for the last week or so. I hate packing with the passion of a thousand burning suns. I don't hate UNpacking, mind you... if you need help unpacking and getting settled in, I'm your girl! But packing? I'd rather be trampled by epileptic elephants. I'm just too type-A to pack... I get caught up in EACH and EVERY box, trying to pack exactly the right things together, in EXACTLY the right way, and before you know it the process is moving at roughly the speed of syrup rolling uphill. But I've gotten a lot done, in spite of my packing disorder, so I think it'll all be okay.
On the plus side, I just realized I may have picked up some poison ivy this weekend at Daddy's lake house. Have I ever mentioned how allergic to poison ivy I am? As in I-have-to-get-shots-and-am-left-with-scars kind of allergic? I so hope I'm wrong...
Well, guess this takes care of my little update. I know it's been awhile, but life's been insane. I'd say I'll be doing better from now on, but I think my record on sticking to that is pretty ugly, and I don't want to tempt the universe (or any readers) into striking me with lightning, so I'll just say that hopefully it won't be so long till the next posting.
I hear boxes calling my name. Bastards.