Countdown

It's the Monday of the last full week that I'll be here in town before heading to Australia. I can't believe it. I'm in some odd in between state of what I'll call After the Storm and Before the Walk.

After the Storm took place over the last ~ 2 weeks:

- 5 vaccinations/shots that made me hallucinate and be horribly depressed in that crying in the shower kind of way that is comical after it passes but is downright and profoundly dark when you're in it. But hey, if you've got cooties, c'mon and sit near me because your germs will die when they meet my vinegar like blood. [heads up mosquitos in africa: I am scared of you but you WILL die if you even think of biting me. Wassup.]

- 3 Lasik doctors offices were visited where every single one of them dilated my eyes, allowing the sun to pour in and singe my brain with it's UVA/B rays, those assholes. I suppose I should mention I forgot to bring sunglasses and they reminded me 12 times. Fine, I take back the asshole comment.

- 2 eyeballs cut open w lasers and 20/20 vision miraculously implanted. Laying there with an eye speculum spreader thing knowing a blade was slicing open the jelly part of my eye was one of those things that tested my ability to pull off a little mind-bend control trick on myself.

- 1 kitchen, 1 bedroom and 1 closet all gutted, reorganized and cleaned. I am a horrible housekeeper and organizer, but make up for it with deadline driven frenzies and cupcakes.

- 8 bags of shit schlepped from condo full of kitchen, bedroom and closet debris to goodwill. Should have resold it or ebayed it or similar, but just couldn't bear to look inside those black Hefty garbage bags one more time.

- dozens of phone calls and emails with all of the annoying and official entities in life: car insurance, health insurance, travel insurance, refi guy for house, etc etc. This portion of my last few weeks made me realize that if I was a rich rock star (someday dammit), my greatest extravagance would not be on a JayZ/Beyonce yacht, a chef or a stylist. It would be one fucking personal assistant so that I never have to respell my last name, SS# and mobile number into a computer system 4 times sideways ONLY to be asked for that very same info by the human I end up (maybe) talking to. W.T.F.