Can you tell...

...that I don't want to do all the things I need to do? Like get the rest of the stuff from the storage unit, sort it mercilessly, likely clean the living daylights out of it, take castoffs to the Salvation Army and find places for the things I'm keeping? Not to even mention the thought of packing. Oh, I'm so not even there yet.

But Cripes, I feel like I just got settled here. I don't even really have this place set up the way I want it and now I have to go somewhere else. I tell you what, if I even remotely like my digs-I-haven't-seen-yet, I'm stayin' there all five years. Moving totally sucks.

So I'm not doing those things I need to be doing. No, I spent the last two days furiously hooking the baby-gan. This afternoon, Gator made an off-hand comment about needing a hand-made coaster for his cubicle. So... guess what I did tonight. Yup. His favorite color is purple and I happened to have some in my stash. I warned him that it was basically going to be a doily. He totally digs it. He's so weird.

And now it's not quite 8:30. I'm seriously considering going to bed. What's wrong with me? Is going into work an hour earlier each morning wrecking me that badly? Tonight, I'll listen to my body. Next week, though... Grrr.