(no subject)

I have five plus years of pack rat-ism strewn across my floors, I have chewed my previously respectable fingernails off, my father can't come to help because of a work emergency, I have twelve hundred forty nine seven fifteen eight eleven twenty two nine things to do tomorrow before my mother arrives with the moving truck at eleven o'clock, another seventy nine two four thousand twelve eleventy nine eight one seven things to do after she leaves with the truck a few hours later, I may have accidentally packed the pair of clean underpants I meant to wear tomorrow, and my father talked me into leaving my bike behind when I came up to Ottawa to sort things out so I HAVEN'T RIDDEN IN DAYS AND I'M NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT. I AM SO SICK OF PACKING I CAN'T EVEN. WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME I HAD ACCUMULATED THIS MUCH CRAP? I'M GOING TO MISS MY DISHES WHEN I MOVE BACK INTO MY PARENTS' HOUSE. I'M NOT GOING TO HAVE EVERYTHING READY IN TIME AND MY MOTHER IS GOING TO BE DISPLEASED. MY THESIS DEFENCE HAS BEEN SET FOR A DAY WHEN I'M SUPPOSED TO BE PRACTICE TEACHING AND THE COMMITTEE IS COMPOSED OF CANADIAN AND WOMEN'S HISTORIANS, WHICH REALLY ISN'T WHAT MY THESIS IS ABOUT. I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY MISS MY BIKE.

That is all. Carry on.