Vagina is how I will refer to my new home state.  We are moving.  I am simultaneously terrified out of my fucking wits and excited beyond belief.  It’s a strange emotional dichotomy and I don’t recommend it.

The prospect of moving all our STUFF is overwhelming.  I can see a great deal of culling in our future.  I keep telling Jat he’s going to have to sell/trash/give/blow up that damn Super Breakout arcade cabinet he has.  It works, but only when he turns it on, which has been all of twice in the 5+ years we’ve been together, so yeah, despite what he may believe, that shit’s not coming to Vagina with us.

Me?  Oh, I’ve just got about two metric fucking tons of art/craft supplies.  All of which won’t be coming with us.  Which means I’m going to be having one helluva yard sale.  Paula gets to pick over it first and take what she wants, I’ll sell whatever’s left.

We’re leaving the furniture too.  Not all of it, but the living room set, our dining set (Mom’s taking that back, we got it 3rd or 4th hand) and probably a few other things as well.  I’d like to leave the bedroom furniture too and buy a new mattress because we need one desperately. Jat is set on us moving ourselves.  I think he’s insane and hope he plans on doing the loading/unloading because the most I”m willing to do is pack boxes.  I’m being a bratty little bitch and I know it, but I don’t care.  I don’t particularly WANT to move and it’s got me all tied up in anxious knots.  If I have to think about loading/unloading boxes in the middle of fucking August I want to curl up and stick dust in my eyes until it’s over.

I’m trying to have a positive attitude about all this.  I know in the long run it’s going to be great for us both, me especially since I’ve always lived here (at least as long as I can remember).   He’s really excited about this job.  It’s his dream job with great opportunity for advancement and  he already has a dear, old friend who works in the same capacity as Jat would be, so he has it on very good authority that the company is a great one to work for and expanding rapidly.

Can’t I just overdose on Xanax and have someone wake me up when we’re there?  Please?

I’ll likely be moving all the animals by myself.  All that shit, my kiln, my wheel and my lathe, all things I don’t trust to be under anyone’s control but my own, won’t fit in my Honda, not to mention I’m not convinced the poor old bitch could make it there.  So we’ll be renting the biggest SUV we can that can tow my car and moving animals, the car, and my TLC shit that way.  Fun times.  At least the goddamn thing will have AC.