Day of Sun in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

The packing process has begun. To make matters worse, the realtors are now showing people my place. MY place! That makes me so sad, but it’s also embarrassing when they come banging on my door and I’m still puttering around the place in my jammies like I was yesterday. I told them I’d be outta here by noon today so that they could show the place, but they’re going to have to walk around boxes and shit now. Oh well. Not my problem.

I don’t move into the temporary place until October 8th because I couldn’t get a moving van on such short notice (or I would have moved out on the 1st). Yes, I am dragging this out. I guess because I can.

I haven’t told anyone at work that I’m moving instead of buying the place. I think it will look too obvious and Operation Outta There, Phase II could be foiled. From the sounds of things on Friday, it might be foiled anyway. We had our quarterly review, and Prez got up in front of everyone and almost cried. He blamed bad business basically on us (my area) and pointed fingers at his VPs and said that we were all doing a terrible job. Yes. He said that in front of the entire company! I guess he felt bad about that a little later, because after another portion of the presentation, he got back up in front of everyone and told us that he has the right people in place to turn business around.

Nice leadership there, Mr. President. I love how he goes around blaming us and then turns around and says that we will fix everything. Make up your mind, or do a clean sweep, or something. I hope OOTII runs smoothly. Layoffs for this company generally happen at the end of October. Time’s a wastin!!

:::Much later on Sunday:::

I was out of the loft all day today so that I wouldn’t be here during the showings. It was actually a really good day. I should force myself out all day more often. Seriously, it kept me from being Depressed Packing Girl. I can save that shit for when I’m behind the 8-ball and have procrastinated my ass off and the moving truck’s about to arrive.

So what did I do? Well for one thing, the greatness that is Target. Then I took myself to lunch at the all-you-can-graze salad place. Then I went to an art fair, after stopping at the shoe place because I was distracted by some cute black and white tweed stiletto boots, then to the craft store where I yearned for some delicious frothy Italian hand-dyed yarn but promised myself not to buy more until I finish at least one project, then back to the art fair, and then to see The 40-Year-Old Virgin. And finally back home. What a fantastic day!

I finally talked to Best Bud who weathered Rita. She was unable to evacuate (she lives in Houston) because she’s flat on her back with a herniated disc. I feel so awful for her. She’s trying to take an overseas business trip, and thinks this will clear up with a few steroid shots and possibly an epidural (???). Um…I hope she doesn’t overdo it like she overdoes everything else. She has a baby to think of now. What’s gonna happen if she really screws up her back? She’s so drugged up right now—I don’t think she even noticed the hurricane.

After 14 unanswered phone calls between Thursday and Friday, the Jackhammer finally got the message and gave up, I guess. I feel a twinge of regret for not befriending him…or whatever he wanted from me, but I look at it this way, we’re not going to be neighbors. And if we had become neighbors, well I’m not sure how all that would have worked out. I so value my privacy, and he’s not one to give it to me. So I guess all’s well that ends…whatever.

Other quick Sunday night tidbits: