I've finally "finished" packing. I mean not really. Diana and I will have to bring some stuff in her car next weekend, but I'm done insofar as what the movers will move tomorrow. I feel like I've been packing forever, because I have. I started weeks ago in dribs and drabs and then hit it full time last weekend and every night this week that I wasn't rehearsing.
I left work early, at about 2:15, ran some errands, and then started packing at about 4. I just finished at about 2am. For those of you keeping score at home, that's about 10 hours of packing with a dinner break and a phone call to Diana thrown in. I've listened to a lot of music and watched the entire movie Superman on TVLand. (Marlon Brando's really good in that movie.)
I officially have a butt-ton of crap. And I've gotten rid of a lot of stuff. Previously I had a metric butt-ton of crap, but now I'm down to the standard English version. Those French have larger butts. Anywhoo...
I miss staying up super late at night. I'm reminded of the days when the Rough Theater Company still existed and they used to do play-in-a-day marathons and I used to stay up all night writing a play. Once I wrote two in one night. I was crazy like that. I write best under a deadline and that was a crazy deadline.
Ok, I've gotten way off topic again, which happens when I'm seriously tired. Must collapse now. The movers arrive at 9am, that's in 6.5 hours. Must sleep at least 6 hours or I will die.
Internet, I would like you to know that when we started this whole process, Alan assured--ASSURED--me that he didn't have all THAT much stuff, that it was all out in the open since his studio doesn't have that much storage. That even though his hereditary packratting puts packrats to shame, it wouldn't be so bad.
ReplyDeleteLIES. ALL LIES.