Tres Mas Semanas

I'm sure even those three words are grammatically incorrect, so I'll translate for you here: Three more weeks, Bitches!

So, this weekend was about spending money I don't have and female bonding which, really, can you put a price on that stuff? I'm really liking my new roommate and I have a feeling all my good friends would like her, too, so I'm a little bummed that I'll only know her for a few weeks before I move and then never talk to her again.

I'm just one of those people. Once a thing is done, it's done for me. If I've managed to hang on to people, it's because I love them to death and always want to know how they're doing, but mostly, I'm abnormally OK with letting people go. This is probably due to extreme self-absorption.

It occurred to me the other day that this move is ALL I think about. The many little things that need to be done are the only things I deal with. Other things have suffered because of my laser-like focus on moving to Los Angeles, but at this point, it's just a runaway freight train. How could I even begin to dial back the enthusiasm and eliminate the running lists in my head? There's no way.

I'll just have to make a bulk apology to everyone I know who hasn't heard from or seen me in a while: I'm sorry. I have a lot going on.

I cleaned out my clothes yesterday, after I recovered from my Sangria-At-Brunch buzz and did 30 lbs. of laundry. I'd already done it a few months ago when I chucked all my big clothes, so it didn't take too long. I have to tackle the many drawers of lotions and potions I buy but never use later this week when I find the motivation. After that, I'm pretty much packed. Moving so much in New York made me a minimalist by default; there's only so much shit a girl can move 6 times in 4 years.

Earlier today a colleague and I set the date for my Going Away thing. Next Friday. Should be fun.

I guess that's all I got, kids. Same old, same old. Makin' plans, drinkin' iced coffee, spendin' money I shouldn't be spendin'. You know. The uszh.