don't touch the red button

I was thinking all week I had a cold. Sneezing, headache, weepy eyes. I just came back from a walk outside in the cold air where I felt fine, and walked into the house and started sneezing and grumping again when it hit me.

"You moron. You're alergic to dust mite poo. Somebody has been ripping up your basement for the last week."

Feh.

the_axel, I'm sleeping at your house tomorrow night.

I think it's also finally starting to sink in just how stressed I really am about the whole house situation. Last night I just flat-out walked out of the room on one of those lets-discuss-the-situation-endlessly-so-I-can-feel-like-I've-contributed-something-useful-to-the-problem-without-actually-having-to-get-off-my-fat-ass-and-do-anything conversations because I was afraid that if I stayed in the room I was going to make a sudden throat-ward lunge.

Um. Did I say that out loud?

So, er, yeah. Stressed. More than usual even for me and I think it's overflowing into the rest of my interactions with people. And in about two weeks I'm going back to work, which will decrease my money-stress, but add to my I-have-no-time stress.

I'm wondering if my body can handle an initial foray into the gym next week if I try not to push myself too much.

Or I could just reconcile myself to severe alcoholism until I move.

I was out grabbing some groceries today and I picked up one of those "For Rent" magazines that they put on Toronto Star boxes. 100% ads for high-rises. Feh.

I'm going to get off the computer and go pack things. And shortly after that I have to run off to escort bcholmes to dinner and to see Ani Defranco -- or as I prefer to refer to her, "My penance for dating a lesbian".