better than a sharp stick in the eye. maybe.

i hate moving. i absolutely loathe moving. in fact, the only thing the act of moving inspires in me is a desire to get rid of everything i own.

of course, when i start trying to actually do that, i think of four trillion reasons why i still need that blue sweater i haven't worn since january 2002, or why it might be necessary for me to still have fifteen back issues of vanity fair. and then i wind up lugging pounds of uselessness around town. AGAIN. i have moved more times in the past ten years than i can even remember. every time i turn around, i'm moving again. kels and i sat at work last night mulling the whole process over, and we realized that the next time we have half a chance of having any sort of settled-ness, it will be next fall. if we're lucky. from here on out it's back to travelling via the seat of our pants.

i should quit bitching. i am nothing if not ridiculously excited for the actual location change. it's just the moving that makes me want to start taking hostages. i should just keep a bunch of freelance movers on retainer so that when i need to go, i just call them up and they take care of it. if i could swing something like that, i'd be a happy lady. oh, and if i could find someone to paint my apartment for free, that'd be pretty sweet too.

other than dreading a lot of heavy lifting, i've mostly been watching copious amounts of basketball, making plans to construct a giant paper mache(maiche? how the hell is that spelled? and i think it is papier, no?) steelers helmet to put on my sister's front lawn for the super bowl, being tired for no apparent reason and looking forward to spring. pretty boring, except for the helmet...that ought to piss a lot of neighbors off.