Californa Love.
There is absolutely nothing more stressful than moving.
Nothing.
No break up, no job loss, NOTHING.
That said, every box I packed is now sitting in the trailer or in the trunk of my car.
On the last box, I fell down my stairs and twisted my ankle pretty badly. So bad, in fact, it's swelling as we speak. I laid down in the snow and cried for about 5 minutes, ass wet, ankle hurting, box laying on the ground.
My head hurts, my back hurts, and my arms hurt. I'll be sleeping on the floor tonight.
I have no idea how I'm going to get the rest of my things into the car. I have a feeling there will be DVD's and VHS tapes littering my trunk, because the box will not fit anywhere. My microwave will be riding below the litter box.
All of this, and I'm typing sitting on the floor.
I don't even know where the computer is going to go.
It was not a good idea to be packing all of this by myself, credit to Kristin for helping me get my bed, dresser, and chairs into the trailer.
See, when you reach a panic stage, you don't think clearly, and I'm not thinking clearly.
If I've ever needed help in my life, it's right now.
So, I flipped out again, and decided that I need to stop. My ankle is killing me.
. . .
So this is my good bye entry. I'll be on the road for a couple of days. Hopefully, I'll be able to update Friday, or Saturday. Other wise, I'll see you on the other side...
The next time you hear from me, I'll be in that sunshine state with a bomb ass hemp beat
The state where ya never find a dance floor empty.
Damn fuckin' right, I quoted Tupac.
. . .
Good Night.