I have shaved my legs and my 'pits. I have painted my nails. I have a check from a friend for the paying of rents. Also, I have ulcers in my throat from post nasal drip and can feel every breath in my throat. Tomorrow, I drive to another city to cash the check, to a second city to deposit the cash, then back to Cute Boy Person for New Years Eve. I have bottles of prosecco cooling, Chambord to girl drink the fuck out of that prosecco, and a cute boy to drunkenly make out with at midnight.
Then it begins.
I need to get a job. I need to stop living off the generosity of my awesomely helpful friends. I need to get my health insurance straightened out so I can go back to the allergist and try to get my health under better control. I have about 6 posts in progress. I got shit to do. This year, I hope to actually get some of that shit done.
This procrastination and avoidance of deciding which Netflix show to watch before bed brought to you by the letters F and U and the number 2.
I mean, um...