There are 16 days until I move out of my apartment. I have yet to start packing, but it can’t take me that long. Can it?
29 days until I make the final plane trip to Orange County. 29 days of transferring my work load to who knows who. Seriously, does anyone know who should take this stuff over? I certainly have no clue. No one is telling me who all of this should roll over to. With only 17 work days to go, they should probably let me know. I’m trying not to stress about it too much; after all, they’re only hurting themselves by waiting until the last minute.
This weekend I’m going wine tasting on Saturday with some girlfriends. A kind of one last hurrah before I make my way to Southern California.
Officially, though, I’m feeling kind of blah. My roommate woke up early this morning, which pushed my shower back nearly 20 minutes. Now, the thing is, I wake up at quarter after five (in the a.m., in case that wasn’t clear) and am usually in the shower by 5:30. My roommate? She doesn’t usually get up until 6:45. So instead of going through my normal routine of trying on three different outfits, I had to take the first thing I pulled out of my closet. Not very attractive, if you want to know the truth. And that can really turn what could have been an okay day into something not so okay.
So what I’d really like to be doing is shopping. Just a little pick me up. But that’s clearly not going to happen because I’m at work and don’t have a car. One of the many things I’m really looking forward to with this upcoming move is that I will have access to a car. I won’t be stuck at work or at home or in just one quadrant of town. I know that isn’t very environmentally conscious of me, but after a year-plus of depending on public transportation and the kindness of others (some of whom have turned out to be not so kind), I’m really looking forward to the freedom of a car.
Lunch time. Perhaps a delicious lunch will cheer me up.