kindkit | moving house: still not fun

If I had known that after being shampooed, the carpet would look exactly the same as it did before, I wouldn't have gone to the trouble and expense. There's no way my landlord would've been able to tell.

Also, in it-would-be-hilarious-if-my-life-were-a-film news, I threw my back out on Wednesday morning. While standing at the sink washing my hands. Before I had moved any of the heavy boxes. Nope, just standing there with my hands under the tap when suddenly there was what I can only describe as a crumpling sensation in the small of my back. And, you know, pain.

It apparently wasn't as dire as it initially seemed--I'm stiff and sore, but not in bad pain, and I've been able to move the heavy boxes and such (thanks, ibuprofen and acetaminophen). Nevertheless, not what I needed.

I'm stressed, I'm tired, I'm irritated that my housemate didn't offer to let me park in the carport (her spot, near the house, whereas I park on the street) so that I'd have any easier time schlepping stuff out. I hope I don't have to go to Target again before I leave (Kit's Hint For Movers: you always need more tape). I understand the attraction of e-book readers now, because boxes of books = really fucking heavy. After getting rid of most of my books, I still had four smallish--but still fucking heavy--boxes worth.

And for what I imagine are obvious reasons, I'm bad at replying to comments right now. If we've been talking about Doctor Who or DS9 and I've suddenly vanished from the conversation, my apologies. I'm reading everybody's thoughts with great interest, but I don't always have the mental energy to answer.