I KNOW.

I am the worst blogger ever.  It's a fact, I've accepted it.
So here's the run-down of the last few weeks.

...
Um, nothing, really.  I've been working and schooling my little heart out.
Last day on the job was this past Friday.  It was tougher than I expected.
I cried like a baby, but not before making it to my car, so I'm calling it a success.
Friday night was the company Christmas party.  Super fun.  My bowling
skills are non-existent, but my cheese stick eating skills are out of this world, so
it all balanced out.  Went to our Going Away Party Bar afterwards and closed the place down.  There may or may not have been some Justin Timberlake and Vanilla Ice karaoke.  I'll never tell.

So now we play the waiting game.
The problem with me and the waiting game is that I'm completely neurotic
(if you haven't already noticed)
and so these next three days are going to basically consist of me sitting around thinking of all the ways this whole thing could just come crashing down on me.  How many ways can I screw this up?  A lot, is the answer to that question, and I will be playing them all on repeat over the next 72 hours as I pack a random assortment of my belongings into this really sweet luggage I found at a thrift store (7 dollar bills, y'all!).

I don't know why I have such trouble accepting good things happening to me.
It's not like I've led one of those super tragic lives full of orphanages and tuberculosis -  why can't I just let happy things be happy?  Well.  I can.  And I'm going to.  So, put that in your pipe and schmoke it, Universe.

Oh!  So, I made a promise to myself to blog every day while I'm on this extended trip - we'll
see how that goes.  I've got to develop some sort of self-discipline, and so we're starting with blogging.

My next post will be from about 4,000 miles west of here.  See you guys there.

A very Happy Holidays to you and yours from my boy, John McCain.

Procrastination Station! ...all aboard? Nevermind.

My lovely, most wonderfully tender-hearted Blogpals, I write to you from the floor in one of few open spots in the heap of nonsense that is my living room.  Something about these last few weeks has left me completely and utterly disabled when it comes to things like cleaning, or carrying my belongings upstairs, or applying makeup, or fixing my hair... really anything that takes more than 45 seconds to a minute has been eliminated from my daily routine.

I am just walking around in these clouds of uselessness, you see.  And not those clouds.  I haven't smoked pot in years.  These clouds are head clouds, but not the dark rainy kind.  They are enormous white puffs of cotton, and they are probably shaped like ice cream or bunnies, but I haven't taken the time to notice.  I am simply dazed.

I turned in my letter of resignation at work, which is the most exciting thing that I have to tell you (yes, that's as good as it gets).  It's mostly only exciting because I wrote it in my best Old English (very poor), which my supervisor will find humorous, and my human resources manager will find annoying.  Two birds with one stone, you know.

And so the awesome thing about turning in your notice at your job as that every day when you wake up, the usual feelings of misery and empty longings for a slow death are replaced by thoughts like, "AW, HELLZ YEAH.  Only X more days until I never have to go to that horrible, wretched place ever again!"  And that is a wonderful feeling, I am telling you.  The downside is that while you're at work, people keep putting things on your desk, and you keep pushing them around with your ruler, never really accomplishing anything.  And then you spend an inappropriate amount of time leaned back at your desk, dancing to Vampire Weekend and coveting jewelry on Etsy because why not?  In a few weeks this stuff won't matter and what are they going to do, anyway? Fire you?  Probably not.

So, it's been a couple weeks of unusual uselessness on my end.  I just sort of find myself standing places, looking at all the things that need to be done, and my mind wanders and... well, here we are.  I'm supposed to be packing up my belongings now, but you guys, I have accumulated a lot (A LOT!) of things while living in this little apartment, and I just don't know what to do with it all.  Moving with it is not an option.  Maybe you would like to take it off my hands?  I have some studious owls that I purchased at an estate sale.  Or perhaps a clock shaped like a record is more your style?  Maybe some paintings made with love by me and my roommate and a box of wine? A poster with Albert Einstein riding a bicycle?  These are just a few of the treasures I have to offer.

I badly want to tell you where I am going and the cause for all this absent-mindedness, but I am sort of liking keeping secrets.  So, I'm going to keep it up.  It'll be fun, I promise!

We had two couch surfers this weekend, it was... drunk?  Yes.

it got a little weird later in the evening.

Guess what I have?

A plane ticket!
...Guess where to?
(wrong!)
(Quiet, Steven!)

I'm coming back soon, you guys.  Promise!