AAARRGHH!!!

So, what with N leaving and my subsequent need to go to Broadways and get all emo on my friend J's long suffering shoulder and then the night before when something or other happened that has faded into the mists of time but surely did not involve putting tchtochkes into boxes, I'm way behind on the packing. And my new landlord has not called me back and I don't know when I can go get the keys to my new place which I totally want, like, right now so that tonight I can go over there and reassure myself that I do in fact have a place to live and it wasn't all some kind of weird elaborate scam. And the U-Haul people have not called me back either and the craigslist guy I emailed has also not called me about helping me move and I'm freaking out and did I mention that, naturally, o just naturally, it is of course that time of the month? My glasses are not ready yet and my Amazon order is delayed and Django already lost the new tag N & I made for him on Sunday.

So I really, like, NEEDED to have my current landlord call me around noon and tell me that he's selling the house I have lived in for the last six years, without, mind you, asking me if I wanted to buy it despite the fact that I offered to buy it a few years back. Not that I could afford it, but still. He could have asked. So he's selling the house which explains the slow parade of people who have been driving up and down the street peering at me the last few days but now, to add insult to injury, he wants to show it TONIGHT. And I tried and tried to get out of it because, jesus, my house looks like Tobacco Road only far worse right now because I'm a mess in every way and I haven't got time to pack AND clean and also I sort of gave up cleaning in February when I had my 19th nervous breakdown and then what with N living there and M being a teenage boy who prefers to live in ultimate squalor and me having decided that life is too short to clean, well. Plus the huge piles of trash everywhere since I'm sorting stuff by boxing things I want to keep and throwing things I don't want into piles. I tried and tried to say no but I failed and THEY ARE SHOWING THE DAMN HOUSE AT 7:30 TONIGHT even though, for chrissakes, the house will be all theirs a fucking week from today but no, that is not soon enough. So I ran home for one hour around noon and my friend S, (I really do have the best friends in the whole world; I am not worthy) came over and washed dishes while I frantically swept floors and threw clothes and sheets and stuff into a pile and discovered that Django, who I had locked into the house this morning since he's gotten utterly brazen about breezing through the fence and touring the neighborhood, had taken it upon himself to shred a box of records - fortunately, he had so far mostly only eaten the box and a corner of The Association, Windy, which I very likely will never listen to again anyway if I ever even have since I got it for a quarter on a street corner - so I had to clean that up too and then let him out, at which point he disappeared, which led to incoherent shrieking on my part and then when he finally came back I tied him up in the backyard and came dashing back to work, since I had to take the desk at the museum this afternoon, argh, grrrr, meaning that I won't be able to leave the museum for the rest of the day even to smoke or pee. I cannot believe this but it's happening; I'm furious, my head hurts and I think I might be losing my voice.

MOVING SUCKS. PEOPLE MOVING AWAY SUCKS. THIS WHOLE THING FUCKING SUCKS!