It's only 10:26 p.m. but I am tired as all get out. Not passing-out tired, but just generally exhausted. My entire life has been consumed by this move and usually, that's over by the time I actually complete the relocation. But this time, it's dragging on.

I haven't had a chance to unpack more than the bare essentials since the movers unloaded my life into the new house on Wednesday. Since then, I've had to do mundane things (laundry, dishes, cleaning) in addition to interviews for multiple articles, attending events for said articles and writing said articles.

Oh, then I decided to paint this weekend, because I couldn't really put anything into place at home until the walls were finished. So Saturday was spent at hardware and department stores getting paint, supplies, housewares, etc., while almost all of Sunday was spent doing the actual painting, moving furniture, etc.

I finished my Monday morning deadline article about 10 minutes ago (how I don't know), and I could tear into the other, longer piece now, but all I want to do is lie down, maybe stare at my pretty blue walls for a few minutes, read a comic book and pass out.

And I'm thinking given my current deadlines and schedule, no Iron Man for me until at least next weekend. At least I have She Wants Revenge to look forward to as a reward at the end of this week.

I am pooped. I have been packing since getting home from dinner about 5 hours ago. I am burnt. I have to be up early tomorrow because I have a haircut scheduled for 9:45 a.m., and thankfully, I have a feeling getting to sleep tonight should be just as easy as last night, when I was ruthlessly tired after the Death Cab for Cutie show.

Speaking of, did I already post observations? I don't think I did. Wait, maybe I did. Crap. I'll look later.

In the midst of moving my boxes in the closet to the office for easy mover pick-up, I cleaned out and re-boxed my comic book collectibles. Wow, I have some weird stuff. "How weird, you ask?" Well, glad you asked. Why don't you follow this link to Pop! Goes the Icon, where I break it down with a gallery of pictures?

Good plan.

And good night!

My body just gave up last night. After making and finishing a tasty dinner about 7:30 p.m., I sat down on the couch and ... passed out. I knew it was coming. Leonard Cohen crooned me to sleep. I woke up about 12:30 a.m., and then it took about an hour to get back to sleep in my bed (Seal, you were no help). I woke up maybe once more, about 3:30 a.m., before waking up at my alarm-designated 6:45 a.m.

I stopped by the Starbucks at Paradise and Flamingo this morning (always lovely to see Courtney from Love Pentagon and The Clydesdale first thing in the morning), partly so I could pop next door to FedEx Kinko's and ask them to hold some paper boxes for me (those things are the best for moving and that's one of the things I actually miss about working there -- free boxes). I actually saw the manager, who I knew from back in the day, but he was walking away, so I had to deal with one of the polo-shirted peons.

Back when I was a manager at kinko's, people would ask for us to hold boxes for them every week, and we would. Of course, this was a huge store and we had a lot of storage space. But when I asked the middle-aged Asian woman with the thick accent this morning if they could do the same, she just looked at me blankly. She didn't GET it. She told me, "We throw the boxes away." Uh huh. I told her that was my point -- instead of throwing them away (and, now that I think about it, why don't they recycle them??), I'd take them off their hands later that evening. She just looked at me blankly again. After a minute, she told me they would pile up if they didn't throw them out, so they'd be outside the back door. I went to get my iced tea.

This is just one reason I hate packing. Even acquiring boxes is a hassle. Speaking of, remember Monday when I was trying to explain my "clutter build-up due to impending moving" scenario? And decided you needed pictures?


Living room, note lack of clutter as usual. Sadly, this is not the first room you see.


Office, desk with clutter, which IS the first thing you see when you walk in the door. Bills, comics, books, magazines, receipts, I don't even know what else. (Items of note: Review copy of Las Vegas Noir, Fantastic Four comic, Overthrow book for class I've never read, portable cassette player for the gym because I am old school, overflowing canister of change)


Office floor, with boxes eagerly awaiting those books and albums. Eagerly, I tell you.