This weekend has been a long one. While I’m not worn out physically, I’m mentally burnt.
Right now, I’m on the couch, snuggled in the robe with a cat on one side of me. For once, I feel slightly accomplished. While I didn’t do a workout, I did other stuff. I did the laundry. As far as I know, Polly isn’t in the basement, so there’s that. I dyed my hair blue. I’ve done most of the dishes.
But the big accomplishment was actually putting things outside. There’s a few things I keep looking at, thinking I should get rid of that every time I pass them. Two fans, perfectly good, out on the curb. Since it was finally emptied out, I broke down the particle board bookcase that housed all of the My Little Pony collection. While I considered using it as storage under the sleeping platform, I hauled out a smaller bookcase. Someone is going to walk past and get lucky enough to leave with about 200 CDs.
I’m too burnt out to give a shit anymore. Lately, I wonder more and more about just leaving it all ASAP. Just how feasible it might be to sell off as much as I can, as quickly as I can? Like, give six weeks notice at work, and empty everything out of here as quickly as possible. Once I get the stuff out, I’ll get it on the market and make a hasty exit before it even sells, and head to Florida. The less I’m here, the less I need to be anxious about keeping everything as clean as possible at all hours of the day, just in case someone wants to see it. I have a fuckload of personal time banked, which would cover at least one month of mortgage/utilities after I cut lose.
My mom seems to be calling on Monday nights lately, I’ll talk to her about it tomorrow night.
