A flurry.

Today, I woke up to my mother leading two random women up my stairs to my room.

Seriously. I was sleeping. And they woke me up and tried to give me a packing pep talk. And I was grumpy to them, I'm sure, because

1) They woke me up

2) I don't like being told what to do

3) I've been grumpy anyways, as noted.

There were the strange random women, and there were the idiot moving men. One of these idiot moving men is pretty good at the piano, so I have newfound respect for him, but still. The random women were there to organize, and the moving men were there to lift things and tape boxes shut. I guess they had a nice team going, but it all irritated me.

I did some packing and some cleaning and some dust-unsettling, and then my brain stopped working around two (due to the dust. It's been killer) so I went downstairs and got my car keys and got in my car. And then I decided to go to a movie.

So I went and saw a 3:05 show ing of The Ugly Truth. Which I really enjoyed, although it was completely inappropriate.

This is the world.

Then I came back, and I figured "Oh, it's five, the movers should be done by now"

I think they're still here.

And my bedroom is weirdly empty.

And the whole house is like that, but it's most pronounced in my bedroom. Because my bedroom tends to be an explosion of the past and present, as if a tornado had hit a filing cabinet that documented my life. Something like my brain.

And now it's empty.

My brain on the other hand, is still in its typical tornado state.

Love always,
Clara