(no subject)

A weird combination of busy and listless. Mom came yesterday and I gathered things which were mine and she put them in boxes. I put some stuff in boxes too, but not very much. Except for the books, I did all of those. Which is a kind of unreasonable amount, as it turns out.

I'm trying to have everything here under control, because tomorrow I go sign the lease/ get keys and I'm kind of paranoid that stuff that needs to have been fixed in New Apartment won't have been. And then I'll have to spend tomorrow freaking out about that.

But I should spend tomorrow doing stuff like calling the gas company anyway, most likely. Plus if I think everything is under control here, that really just means that the number of things I will likely realize need to be packed and haven't been is small, not that it's zero. It won't be zero.

One of these days I'm going to start feeling again, and it's going to be kind of unpleasant.

But right now I have too much to do. And also I can fill in the cracks with watching Buffy and reading the new issue of Bitch.