Monitor Me

It's two days until the big move, and I'm pretty much dying from the anticipation. DYING I tell you. I want to move right now. I want to have moved yesterday, or last week. I want to be moving as I write this... just pick up the keyboard and put it in a box. BAM. Done, let's go. Forget about the cords, they'll trail along behind and make their way to the house too.

I've never anticipated a move like this before. I've never moved into a house that I will OWN before, so it makes sense that this feels different. Generally, moving has been an enormous pain in my big ass. I hate the cleaning, the sorting, the putting things in boxes, but this time, all the irritation is completely dwarfed by the New House feeling. I suspect that come moving day, I'll be more excited than a toddler at Christmas time, and unpacking boxes will feel much the same as opening presents: "AHMAGAD, IT'S MY CLOTHES... I LOVE THEM... I'LL PUT THEM IN MY NEW HOUSE." or "HOLYCRAP, SHAMPOO! I CAN PUT THIS IN THE BATHROOM IN MY NEW HOUSE." So, basically, I imagine that I'll be more excited than I ever am at Christmas, but there will be plenty of unwrapping, and the living room will be covered in paper long after it should be.

Unexpected side effects from the impending move include: An attention span of a muskox, complete disinterest in doing any sort of work, and extreme giddiness.

Also, I got a hair cut. Here it is:

Em has kindly pointed out that I am more Velma'y than ever, but this is a trial haircut. I haven't had it this long in a few years, and I won't hesitate to cut that sucker off, should it disappoint me.

I'd also like to add that Velma's choice of orange is more of the pumpkin shade, while I like the rust colours a lot more.

Hey, if you'd like me to stay on topic, lend me your attention span. I'll ruin it for you.