I move on Monday. Finally, I have a date set.
Monday is one and a half days away. I should be in full-out moving mode. Instead, here is how my day has broken down:
1:18 PM: Get out of bed. Not because I wanted to, but because the dog won’t leave me alone.
1:30 PM: Take dog outside, throw a ball around, pick up her poop, throw ball some more, get pulled home by dog.
1:55 PM: Come back home. Eat leftover supper that I bought for boyfriend last night which wasn’t eaten cuz he went out instead for a farewell with one of his friends.
2:15 PM: Look around. Decide I should wash all dishes so that I can pack them.
2:16 PM: Realize I am far outnumbered by dishes and will never win the war. Go back to bed instead of washing dishes.
3:15 PM: Get phone call from boyfriend, who is currently in city that he is moving to in a week, describing the house he has just rented himself. Try very hard not to sound like I have just woken up, cuz that would totally out me as the lazy sloth that I am.
3:21 PM: Get off phone with boyfriend. Avoid guilt-inducing stares from dog. Remember that sloth is a sin. Consider getting up to avoid damnation. Roll over and go back to bed. I mean really, I’ve already committed sloth if I’m in bed for the second time at 3:21 PM.
3:45 PM: Get text message from boyfriend, which wakes me up. Realize I have to take friend’s dog out, cuz he’s not home today for a long time and we’ve volunteered to babysit.
3:48 PM: After 3 exhausting minutes of trying to get up, give up. Go to sleep. Again.
4:25 PM: Finally get up and go get friend’s dog. Take dog out for pee. Realize that sadly, day has been consumed by sleep and dog’s bodily functions.
4:40 PM: Stop into convenience store with friend’s dog to buy Rockstar, in a lame attempt to wake my fucking ass up.
4:45 PM: Settle in for some nice internet browsing. Catch occasional glimpse of pesky dirty dishes. Wonder where the hell the dirty-dish-fairy is. Make mental note that she deserves a stern talking to.
5:35 PM: Start this here blog post. Wonder if I shouldn’t be more embarassed by posting my disgusting lack of motivation for all the world to see. Decide no, no I shouldn’t be. I embrace me. And my bed. Definitely embrace my bed.
The boyfriend should be back any minute. In fact, he has just walked in (seriously, we have ESP after being together this long, I can sense his movements).
I sincerely hope his energy will motivate me. To do all the things I need to do before I move. Or you know, to do anything, really.
Dammit, I HATE moving. It is not at all conducive to my very nap-laden lifestyle.