i can't do it! i don't want to do it! don't make me do it!

god, i am going to bitch and piss and moan and thrash about until this entire moving ordeal is over. even i am sick of my whining.

moving makes me sad, even when i want to go. sad makes me sleepy. sleepy makes me even slower than usual, and my own mother calls me "mattress ass." if i get any slower i'll melt into the carpet itself.

i've had two and a half giant caffeinated drinks and still i could take a nap. i came home and chugged half a rockstar and then snoozed for forty-five minutes. my superpower truly is laziness. someone make me a cape out of blue terry cloth, backed in velour, lined with an electric blanket so i can take my extraordinary sleeping-under-duress act on the road! funny how i go either way; i either stop sleeping or do it in excess. insomnia or narcolepsy, no in-between.

i'm going to listen to my favorite guilty pleasure, jesus jones*, and try to get stuff done. maybe the last half of the current energy drink in my hand will perk me up.

*you can make fun of that, i do. i can't help that i like them, and i'm over being embarrassed by it. once a dork, always a dork.