"Pack Up Your Money And Pull Up Your Tent"

Dad came over this afternoon and helped me load up a truckload of stuff from the apartment. All of my books are gone, as are most of my DVDs (the anime collection remains here for the time being, though, as does the CD collection). The living room looks so...empty now.

I also had to kind of laugh at my dad. Apparently he hasn't shaved since he started vacation two weeks ago. Unfortunately for him, he's a Cottrell, which means he suffers from sparse facial hair--there are patches that have no hair, and sadly for him, the beard is coming in more salt than pepper, if you catch my meaning.

Of course, when I asked him why he was growing a beard, he gave the best possible reason I can imagine: "it annoys the hell out of your mother." I mean, that's half the reason I grew my own chin fuzz.

Ended up calling in sick to work this evening (which Lindsay didn't mind--she said it was quiet all afternoon and looked to be the same all evening. I was glad, because while I'd have gone into work if she'd asked me to, I'd have been pretty useless). Used my time sleeping instead. Man, it was nice to sleep for more than 30 minutes at a stretch. Granted, I woke up with the overwhelming need to clear the phlegm from my already raw throat, so I'm sure I sould like death that has not only been warmed over, but then stuck back in the fridge, taken out, left to sit on the counter for a couple of days, shoved in the freezer, taken back out, thawed, microwaved, and then tossed out in the garbage. It's pleasant, let me tell you. But at least my nose is no longer running. My ears feel like they need to pop, my throat feels like crap, and my nose is still stopped up, but at least I'm not having to blow the damn thing every five minutes.

~chuck

Song of the Moment: Wilco, "Company in my Back"