Barely Stressed

I’m not stressed, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Sure, I’m moving in a few days. Sure, half my family’s coming with a truck full of furniture. Sure, what started as anticipation has curdled into pure dread and I can’t wait for this to be over. But that’s not stress.

What actually matters is what comes after. A real vacation. Time with someone whose company I actually want. Good food. Maybe some stupid movie. I don’t care if that’s lame. You know how I am by now.

So this week is work and logistics. Cleaning, laundry, sorting, scrubbing, packing, repacking, eating between all of it, watching whatever’s on. Zero excitement. I still have no idea how I’m painting the kitchen. But once I’m in there—and this is what keeps me going—I can actually take a bath instead of this glorified closet shower. I can make real food instead of nuking frozen garbage. And best of all, I can walk three feet without my shoulder smashing into a wall. That’s the dream.

So now I need to figure out how much alcohol to buy for the housewarming.