As it gets real

This week has been full of packing.

All. The packing.

To anyone reading this, never marry a person who loves books. Twenty-one boxes of books later, he has more boxes of books than I have my entire life's possessions in.

Bastard can get a goddamn kindle.

Know how much box space this takes up? NONE BECAUSE YOU BRING IT WITH YOU, BITCH

It was easily the most stressful week of my life. We had a few friends come over to move boxes to my parents' place of storage, and my apartment STILL has a ton of crap in it. I'm going to die.

As far as packing goes, I don't need to be truly out of here until August 3rd, so I might take tomorrow to recuperate, strategize, and recruit people to help me finish packing and moving on Sunday. Sunday will be a day of trips to Goodwill and exhaustion.

But seriously. All the things still in my apartment.

It has to end sometime, right? Right?

It also doesn't help that my major support is about to leave. I'm inches away from exploding like a volcano filled with stress and misery and covering the poor villagers below with molten anxiety.

"OH GOD IT BURNS LIKE SELF-DOUBT" scream the doomed townsfolk.

But the JETs had their orientation lunch today, where they got their passports back (my visa just got approved, so I'll have to come by and pick it up later), their plane tickets and instructions, and it hit me that at 8am, he's leaving the country.

Get up at 3am. Make sure everything is packed. Leave at 4. Drop him off at the airport at 5. Take a nap. Drive to parents' house to drop off dog and more boxes. Die of physical and mental exhaustion.

I have not yet cried this week.