I can't feel my face.

And, no, I don't mean that metaphorically. I mean it is Friday night. (The last night I sleep on the floor...ever if God grants me this wish.) Because I am old. I mean really old. I know this because I have been moving for it seems like forever and every part of my body hurts. This would include the massage I got this week to get me through the week. Even after the massage I still hurt. Does that mean I would dead from the pain otherwise? I think that is possible.

Yesterday? The day of Thanksgiving, I moved all day. Back and forth, back and forth. I was thankful that I didn't deal with anyone annoying. That was really nice.

I have gotten all of the little random shit out of the house that I can (well, except for the little random shit I will be getting tomorrow.)

I have gotten everything that is in the new place in the right place. Maybe not totally unpacked and ready to go, but in the right room and ready to be ready to go.

I have put up shelves all over the place and I showed up at Bed Bath and Beyond at 6am to get the 20% off on my entire "must have to be organized" list. I never go out on Black Friday. I sure as shit never go out at the crack of dawn. But this year, this year I went out. BBB and Home Depot. That was it. But it was plenty. I've been up a very long time today.

Mimi came by and checked out the old place - I got a thumbs up for "this does not stink of a dog with uncontrollable bladder and bowels." Hooray. She checked out the new place and gave me ideas of how I can control the dog chaos.

She also mentioned that her son has remarked that I never return his calls. Sigh. No energy for you dear, all focused on the dog and the move and survival.

Karla came by to say hi and drop off some stuffing. She saved some for me last year too. Best. Part. of. Thanksgiving. Hands down.

So, if I survive the move tomorrow... then I shall clean on Sunday. And then I will be totally done and out of the old place and good riddance to the dog hating pedophile.

In the meantime I'm going to sit here and hope the feeling returns to my cheeks. And that I don't get feeling to any other part of my body because it all hurts. A lot. Like throbbing hurt. Because I'm old and tired.

Oh, and in case I forgot to mention it. I'm not on happy pills anymore. I didn't have time to go to the doctor. Really. And let's be honest that dr's visit was a couple of laser therapy's for Sabrina. So now it is just me and God against the world. Good company. He might want to help me a little more during TV commercials. They make me cry. A lot. It's embarrassing.

Ok, that's all.