Hate shopping. Hate it so much. All day today I was a happy, happy girl. Like, literally bouncing. And then I had to go shopping. And now my feet hurt and my back hurts and I am cranky and miserable and rather horrible to deal with, I'm sure.
Operation #1: aquire a suitcase large enough to hold the biggest box for the most important gift.
Result: lots of time in Target, initial failure, had to go back at ten forty pm and return the first one and get a larger one. Now a sucess.
Operation #2: gifts for sister. Talked to Mom, and then it turned out to be very simple. She's getting, like, a bevvy of stocking stuffers from me, but they're all things I think she'll like.
Operation #3: gifts for other people. The mall was involved. I can't talk about it. Three down, one to go. Hush. I am close.
Operation #4: pack. Currently trying to make Pratt care about my coat situation. I am not getting very far with this task as a whole. Ten days is a long time, especially considering that I have NO IDEA how many of what kinds of clothes I will be needing.
Except, I know they must be warm clothes. Because there is record snowfall in Cincinnati. Mom reports that the weather forecasters are on 24/7 programming. She was disappointed to tell me that they are just standing in front of big piles of salt and are not humiliating themselves in any manner for her entertainment.
So, boots and gym shoes and dress shoes it is then. Shoes take up so much space that I am only packing black dress up clothes because my black dress shoes are the smallest.
Is this boring yet? I think it is. Just, there are lots of suitcases on the floor and very few things in them, and I might have to do some... laundry.
Operation #5: make the house so that I won't be sad to come home to it. This one is currently a complete failure.
Operation #6: ready the cat for my departure. I just need to change the litter and refill the water bowls in the morning.
Operation #7: get some sleep tonight. The outlook on that is not looking good.
The Fine Print:
2003: Clearly I was in a snit about something, but I have no idea what. Unless I waited a week to write that, in which case I absolutely know what I was in a snit about...
2002: No entry
2001: Oh geez. This was, like, the worst day ever, sitting in the waiting room of the ICU in my pajamas waiting for a man I barely knew to finish dying.
