the panic

i'm not freaking out about moving. maybe, by not freaking out, i'm also postponing the inevitiable: moving to an apartment that is an obvious step down from where i'm living, and living there alone. whatever the reason, i'm just not that concerned even though i move a week from saturday.

for those of you who don't know, my current roommate (and dearly departed ex-boyfriend) is pursuing his phd (i think those scientists call their doctoral degrees phd's. i don't know, honestly.) in chicago and moving there a week from tomorrow. he's handling it really well, i think. then again, i'd probably handle it well if i were moving to a newly-rehabbed condo i'd just bought in a sweet neighborhood in chicago to get paid for being a student.

not that i'm jealous. ok, so i'm spittin' jealous. the last time i heard about a school paying a singer to get her DMA it was in kentucky. and they ended up screwing her royally.

the point is, my, shall we say, lax attitude towards moving combined with t's stress has created a lil' situation in the apartment. t remembers all too well what it looked like the last time i moved apartments (think john artz and his husband throwing shit into garbage bags and stuffing them into the back of a buick riviera) and he's concerned that it's going to be the same situation. i know myself fairly well by now, and i can admit, he's right to be concerned.

that's why, dear readers, i've decided to turn over a new leaf: i'm going to clean the apartment (what!?) and get the place ready to be painted by tomorrow. that's right, i said tomorrow.

now i'm going to take my newly-found good attitude and go cure some pediatric asthma. ta!