okay, if I just left everything I didn't want in the apartment, that would be worth the security deposit, right?
Spike's Bitches 37: You take the killing for granted.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
arranged marriage. Why does this suddenly sound appealing?
Shouldn't all you people be in bed?
ya, I guess I should... but.... kinda wondering if I'm doing the right thing with that sending in a note to another theater.
Shouldn't all you people be in bed?
yes, but all of my possessions are not magically jumping into boxes and labeling themselves.
Maybe the fairies will come and do it while you're sleeping?
You have my sympathy, having just moved house a couple of weeks ago. The only good news is, eventally everything's moved and you're done. Eventually. So, yay?
Gronk. I need to be heading to bed soon. I'm busy trying to tie up any loose ends before I hop on a plane to WA tomorrow afternoon. I'm packing in the morning, but I also need to pick up some blueprints from Universal Studios on my way to the airport. Too. Many. Things. To. Do.
At least I have now done the online check-in for my flight and printed out the information for my rental car and hotel rooms.
Maybe the fairies will come and do it while you're sleeping?
sleep? what's that? I caught a quick nap between 1:30 and 3AM. The fairies did not come.
Poor Vortex! Good luck, you. That is my *least* favorite part of moving...dealing with all the shit that you don't want to deal with at the end.
Happy Birthday, Sunil!
Oh, wait, no squirrels. Bugger
VA's got ton's gimme an address... (note to self... poke air holes)
I'd like to think Australia's learned its lesson about highly annoying rodents from other continents.
Happy birthday, P-C! At the least, I hope you have entertaining e-mail exchanges with smart Indian women who think this whole concept is insane but who want their mothers to shut up already.
Poor Vortex. I have no least favorite part of moving. It's all equally dreadful, frustrating, exhausting and mysteriously unending.
I must stop typing and get off to the Y.