So life has become a giant ball of stress for me.

I start packing my room up tomorrow as I pick up the keys to the new apartment on Friday. I'll be out of the internet for about two or three days so (as if I updated regularly) I will not be signing on for a little while. Tomorrow will be spent between watching my niece, doing my laundry, and packing up my entire room. I don't think I'm at all ready for this.

I drove around Bellevue today with the sun shining. I drove down Bellevue Blvd, although I'm sure not for the last time, for what is probably going to be the last heart to heart. I just kept praying that God would help me realize my dream to live on the street and that I don't forget it. I'm moving only a couple minutes away, but I have to reaquaint myself with an entirely new surrounding. There'll be no more shoping at craptastically huge WalMart anymore. Panera won't be a three minute drive away. Hanson Park (my spiritual resting place) will be a twenty minute drive away.

My body has gone crazy. I'm sick and worn ragged. My work is suffering and I can't stop sleeping and watching tv. Escapism has taken over somehow and I don't know how to get back. I'm more or less immobile and I've gained a couple pounds, which is never good for me. I'm sure once I settle into the new place I'll get a clue, but I'm having such a rough go over leaving my home.

I can't stop touching the house. The wallpaper in the kitchen, the bathroom window, the hardwood floors. My heart is breaking. Yes, no more crappy neighbors, but then again...no more stories of the crazy old cop. I told my mom how much I was going to miss living in this house, at my home. She said she was sure the house felt the same way about us. I had to walk my way out of crying.

This sucks.