five more nights in this miserable apartment. i go back and forth from the couch to the bed every hour or two in the hopes of escaping the noise from above, but it chases me. i feel so mental right now. not even a good game of sudoku can calm me down.

packing this bitch up has been a big pain in the ass. i'm paranoid that nobody's going to help us move. i got my friend will at work to volunteer, and now i find myself subtly reminding him every twenty minutes so he doesn't forget and make other plans. "what kind of beer do you want for moving day?" i ask out of nowhere, or, "oh my god, i was packing last night, for moving day, and i realized i have exactly 819 band-aids. i guess i keep buying band-aids. maybe they'll come in handy if you get a splinter, on moving day, from hauling around my heavy-ass coffee table."

he's on to me, but it's okay. i come into work and complain about my neighbors and lack of sleep. will says, "we should put a bag of flaming poop on their doorstep on moving day." this how-do-you-do sparks my interest. i tell will, "you bring the bag, i'll take care of the rest." i think of how i will change my diet the day before moving day to ensure a quality poop. i go out and purchase new lighters.

this is the third time i have moved in just as many years. the thought that we're moving into another rental and will probably have to move again in a year or two when we buy is enough to make me want to give away all of my worldly possessions as to avoid repacking them again. if only i wasn't such a pussy when it came to purchasing real estate. that's right, i said the p-word. what are you going to do about it?

i'd love to take a nap today. i'll probably have to go to my car to do this. watch your back, neighbors. moving day's going to be shitty.