“The price of anything is
“The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.”
- Henry Thoreau
Time to finish cleaning my room. I have to do laundry (I have nowhere to put it), finish organizing my papers (can’t put my file cabinet where it’s supposed to go), toss out the last things that need tossing (goddamn trunk is too heavy for my strained back), find places for the little things (which means organizing the little things, which is alright), find places for my books (no bookcase still, even though it’s been requested over and over again), and re-arranging my room (damn my aching back).
I’m too tired for this fucking shit. It’s not that much, and everything would be solved if I had a bookcase, but I hurt and I have no bookcase. I feel like I never got a vacation. I’m already counting down until the next one. Today’s just one of those bad days, yanno? I used to get these a lot. Then I’d snap out of it and say, “Why the fuck did I just slice my arm open?”
Yesterday was good, though. I met some wonderful people at the little con, and I got some wonderful pictures, and I’m seriously in debt. $10 to Niki, $8 to Stephy, $11 to Elise, $5 to Julie and $2 to Renee. Correct me if I’m wrong, folks. ^^;; Ya’ll know what my memory is like.
And now I should go work on my room. In short, I will go stare blankly at my ugly walls for a while, sort some papers, stare at the walls some more, try to move my computer, stare some more, move out the trash, stare yet again, and move my posters and cosplay stuff. Oh, and I might get some laundry done. But Dad and Beth are doing theirs, so probably not. Not like I have anywhere to put it anyhow. *sigh* Life sucks and then you die.







