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and if you're strung out like a kite

The storm is, in fact, coming.

So it's t-minus six days and counting, by this time next week (!!!) we should be somewhere between Akron and Chicago, depending on how early in the morning we leave. The week looks a little something like this:

Sunday (tonight) - go through the last notebook boxes, pare down, keep the most important scraps, probably to dvds of "My So-Called Life" on the laptop. I'm kicking television. It's always rough at the beginning.

Monday - get up early, shower, have coffee with my friend Troy that I used to work for at the coffee shop. Take ChaCha to the vet for 9:15, and fork over a hundred bucks. Work, meeting at Gale's, home, pass out.

Tuesday - work and Raf moves the last of his stuff

Wednesday - work, meeting, and I shred down the last of my stuff

Thursday - work, and Pat comes over with some friends to totally empty the entire place. Possibly stop sleeping here.

Friday - off! Get my hair did, possibly tattoo myself, and finish anything that ain't finished. Meet the landlord, ditch the keys, and bid adieu to casa de Wooster Square.

Saturday - make the rounds, have some breakfast time with friends, pick up my contacts, and eight thousand other things I'm sure I'm forgetting about right now.

And then there were two, well, three with the cat and all, off to chase sunsets and scraps of paper.

I'm so tired. It's been about 90 degrees with full humidity for a week now, and I'm all sleeping in next to nothing in direct contact with a fan, and practically sweating to death.

I'm also so excited. And sad. And... leveled. In a good way. Excited at the prospect of everything to come, sad for the relationships I thought were real but aren't, and leveled because I'm seeing things so clearly for the first time in a long time - people are taking sides and stabbing backs. Everything seems like an illusion, people I've talked to for years barely being able to contain themselves until I'm out of the room so they can drop crazy personal atomic bombs on / about me to anyone who will listen. I've gone from two dozen friends, to six, to like, three (as far as CT goes) plus my sponsor. Oh, when you add in Lesley and Kristin, that takes me to five.

Great.

MySpace is the devil reincarnate.

ChaCha has no idea what's in store for her.

And Buddy is settling in nicely in his new digs. He's king of his castle, just like he likes it, and his new mom is just the best. All getting him pet insurance and giving me a key to her house, so I can come and go as I please. Buddy. Budrick. Bud-face. I gave it up to the Universe, and there it all went. I couldn't have hand-crafted it to be any better than it is.

I'm really a lot more tired than I realized. Time to sign off.

Bon courage,

Victoria

Victoria Uhl