For those of you that remember

For those of you that remember Pulp Fiction (yes including you that thought it was the coolest movie of all time and listened to the soundtrack ad nauseum at parties during college), this will seem familiar as it’s something like what my left brain and right brain are saying to one another…

Lefty: I’ve got a threshold, Righty, I’ve got a threshold for the abuse that I’ll take and right now I’m a racecar, man, and you got me in the red. I’m just saying, I’m just SAYING it’s fucking dangerous to have a racecar in the fucking red, that’s all. I might blow.

Righty: Oh, you ready to blow? Well I’m a mushroom-cloud-laying motherfucker, motherfucker! Every time my fingers touch brain I’m Superfly TNT, I’m the Guns of the Navarone. IN FACT, what the fuck am I doing in the back? You the motherfucker should be on brain detail! We fucking switching, I’m washing the windows and you picking up this n——‘s skull!

Or something like that. I’m a big ball of anxiety and stress regarding this move. I simply have too much stuff, and frankly, I don’t think asking for help is a good thing. Sean came over to help last night and all he kept saying was “Wow, you’ve got a lot of stuff.” I’ve been having bad dreams, ones where I can’t sleep (nice, eh?) or am being chased by someone with a gun shooting at me. I’m thinking about calling a professional moving company to see how much they would charge to pack it and ship it all for me. It would be a huge load off my mind, but possibly also off my bank account, which seems so frivolous for a move that’s really about 25 mins or so away. *ugh*

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