Sorting, dividing, donating, tossing, packing. All of my stuff is being crammed into boxes and hidden in the garage so it looks like stylish spartans live in my house. Apparently, people only want to buy houses from Martha Stewart. I’m exhausted.
Besides a few 5 or 15 minute breaks here and there, the only time I’ve really had away in the last few days was to drive to work at one in the morning to sit in my car and talk to one of my coworkers. Not make out with him, not fool around somewhere. No, just sitting in the car, smoking and talking.
I’m also on my last beer. Weep.