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So Bobby Bloodyfangs-Flowerhair-Doublechins is counting "two," and his buddy Ernie Evileyes is at "one," and this is way too convoluted to adequately explain without pictures, which will follow when I get to them. The gargantuan feral infant of my middle twenties lurks less than 28 hours away, at which time I will be Officially Moving out. My room at my parents' house is a sty right now, which is actually a step up from the Slough of Despair it was yesterday. You'd think I would've started packing earlier, but doing things sensibly has never been my style, or forte.

I've been praying for No Rain and actually it's been gorgeous here lately, and that's supposed to continue this weekend--bonus. Work could not be going slower right now, and this year's Cubs look suspiciously like last year's Cubs. How am I not myself?