What is worse than deciding that this year was the year that you were going to make everyone’s christmas presents?

MOVING 25 MILES AWAY FROM YOUR CURRENT 422 SQUARE FOOT APARTMENT INTO A ROOM THAT IS ROUGHLY 96 SQUARE FEET OF SPACE!

Yeah. I am going a little crazy. I rented a storage unit for the first time in my life. It is scary for me to think that all of my stuff is not in my or someone I love’s possession. I can’t fit all of my clothes in the closet that is in the bedroom. When I go out to my car at night, I can hear the rats in the tree above me. I know that the sounds are rats because my new roommate told me that they were. And he has lived in the house for 17 years, so I am going to trust him on that one.

To make matters even worse, for the move I had the help of four people. Winemonkey, the big A, Lisa, and Porter. And I am sorry that every single one of them helped me. Mostly because I feel bad asking people for that kind of help. I try to remember when I have helped friends move in the past I was glad that I could help. But what I end up thinking is, “Holy crap. Which one do I have to call to find out where the box of underwear went.” or that I have to do some sort of mega good deed to make them feel as appreciated as they were. In fact, the big A has good-heartly asked to help me clean my apartment tomorrow… and though I would love his help, because I would love anyone’s help, I am going to have to turn him down. I don’t want the big A to think that all I keep him around for is cleaning and moving.

This all wouldn’t be so bad, except that I am leaving on the 22nd for P-burgh and this weekend I have planned a romantic get-away for winemonkey and me. So squeezing in the soap-making, apron-sewing, shipping, crochetting…. etc…. FUCKING MOVING… it is all getting to me.