You keep on saying...

People keep on asking if I'm excited about our impending move.  The answer is no.

Of course, abstractly, sure, it's exciting.  But mostly, I'm terrified and panicked and nervous and stressed and so on and so on.  I keep telling people that to move, you actually have to MOVE and that's a pain in the ass.  No one actually LIKES moving, do they?  And it's especially horrible because S and I both have pack-rat tendencies (though he wins, hands down), and he's certainly not the most motivated person on the planet.

I sit at my desk at work and try to wrap my head around all the shit that we still have to do and I fail.  I can't even begin yet.  And I know I need to.

All I do know for sure is that we have an apartment, and now we have a moving day.  That's what I know.  Beyond that, no clue.  So don't ask me, because I'm liable to panic right in your face, and that's not good, believe you me. 

Yeah, I'm a little stressed about it.  Can you imagine how bad it will be in three weeks?  Four?  Esp. considering every single weekend in June is taken up with things, things, things.  Okay, I have to stop now, before I panic some more.  I'm going out to lunch.  And then I'm finishing the latest Dark-Hunter novel (I have an ARC!).

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