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breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Feelin' rather better as of yesterday. (I can only sustain angst for a very limited time, thank goodness.) There are animals that will run themselves to death--rhinos, I think, die of adrenalin shock if you keep them panicked long enough*--but I'm not one of them. You can't keep the inherently mellow down. Eventually you stop that queasy "I can't eat..." and start thinking "Man, I could totally go for something with salami about now." Before long panic fades, you think "God, I'm an idiot..." and sanity returns.

Well, for a certain questionable value of sanity. It's me, after all.

Getting approved for health insurance helped. The cat shows no signs of exploding, although he is Not Keen on his kitty-Prozac and will no longer eat food that it's hidden in, I have figured out how to download Bleach episodes to my computer, providing valuable brain-sucking time (so help me god, I will get through the Bountou arc if it kills me!) and even if all is not right with the world, I can break heads until it is.

Which is not to say I won't have occasional flare-ups of madness between now and one week from today, but hey, one day at a time.

The apartment is mostly packed. There's still a couple more things to go, mostly in the kitchen, and the absolute-last-minute stuff like the scanner and the computer and Mr. Printy--plus the usual things that will fall into the Detritus Box, like cat treats and tape and that stray pallette knife and that duck decoy I never packed and whatnot. And of course, there's all the furniture that needs to go away, which will vamoose next weekend, and the art too big to lug around, which will be stored.

So I know I'm coming back here in six months or a year, because while I might cheerfully abandon my furniture, I'm DEFINITELY coming back for the art.

And in completely unrelated news, you can pre-order those soaps now!

Elder Clean! Naked Mole Rat! Savage Orange!



*I lack citations for this, and it may not be true.

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Yay! Things are definitely looking up. I dropped off my car at the mechanic--long road trip, only sensible--and awaited The Call. (You know The Call. The one where you learn what the threshold of pain has been raised to this time. What was it going to be? New brakes? New tires? New transmission? New exhaust system? It's Nissan Roulette! And this time the car has been paid off, so it has nothing to lose!)

The phone rang while I was out walking. I did the yank-out-the-ipod dance, got the cords wrapped around my wrist, dove after the phone, pried it out of my hip pocket, (why, oh why, was it under the ipod?) got the cords tangled around the other wrist, discovered that I now resembled an ad for iBondage, and somehow managed to flip the phone open with my teeth.

"Yes....?" I cringed into the receiver, ignoring the looks from passing motorists. "You looked at the car...?"

"Yea! Actually, your car looks great. You're due for an oil change and there are nails in the back two tires, but other than that, looks good."

"Wha...wait..." I said, picking my jaw off the pavement. "You...you mean you'd drive this car across the country?"

"Sure! It's in excellent condition."

"Wonderful! When can I pick it up?"

"I'll call you in an hour once we've patched the nails."

"Yay!"

I love Nissan. I love Nissan with a deep and abiding passion, not unlike my love for Epson. Faithful, faithful car...

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

"Great," thought Ursula, midway through the evening, "more things I really can't blog about..."