How the hell do I have so much stuff? I’ve been poor for a long time yet I have so much shit that I fill most of a decent size truck. It feels like this apartment is never going to be empty and my legs feel like snapping in two. I think I’ve walked up and down stairs 7,583 times. I counted.
We’re almost at a point where we can drive this truck to the new place and that’s exciting! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! That’s excitement in words. That’s why I’m a great fucking writer. Because of descriptions like that.
I had help moving heavy stuff at the place I live now because I have had years to get to know people but at my new place I will have no one (HEY! IF ANYONE WANTS TO HELP ME MOVE THAT’D BE GREAT! I’LL EVEN REWARD YOU WITH A HIGH FIVE OR SOMETHING NICE!)
It’s all so overwhelming. I’m trying to form a timeline in which all this shit is actually over so I can move on to freaking about having enough money to live and then freaking out about a weird looking mole or something.
Also, my back hurts. That sucks too. Screw you back, you fucking dickhead.