2:04 p.m. I Quit!

You would, too, if you saw our toilet bowel. Got halfway through the bathroom, realized the sink drain is clogged, and I ain't about to remedy it. Hell, after doing some dishes and the bathroom, I can't even get myself up and over to the store to get toilet paper. It is a sad day when I can't walk 2 blocks. And if Jb says anything, "Bang, zoom, straight to the moon!" (Gotta love the old sitcoms that encourage domestic abuse punchlines.)

Okay, dammit, I will go to the store, but it's because of the toilet paper. Not for any other reason! Because, you know, toilet paper is a female necessity of dire importance. Guess I'll get some stupid drain unclogger stuff, too. And finish the dishes, and cook dinner, and, and, and... Makes me exhausted just thinking about it. But, here's the kicker, Jb went out to a flat tire this morning, so the car's in the shop, and ain't no one else gonna go do these little "domestic" lovelies. The fact that we've, maybe, three days until we can start moving stuff to the new apartment and aren't at all completely packed up, well, that's no stress or motivator at all. Nope.

This is how it happens. Every time. I'll take on far more than I really should, work myself up to a frenzy, not sleep at night, wake up far too early, and utterly fizzle once we get into the new place. Once I work myself up with worry and anxiety and cranky resentment, I'll stay uber productive and hypo until I overstep myself, and... crash. With all the fanfare and pomp of my overproductive climb. I honestly don't know how I'm going to pack up some of this other stuff. It's either stuff I need Jb to haul out or down, or it's stuff we'll be using until we actually move. Thankfully, he's been a great help.