I can has nervous breakdown?

By my estimation, I have climbed at least 25 flights of stairs over the last three days. No wonder my thighs feel like I rode a horse ten miles to a 2-hour Pilates session!

On Sunday, G and I went to Target to find what they annoyingly call a "window solution" for my new kitchen window. For some reason, the complex didn't supply blinds or curtains for anyone's kitchen windows. Some people have cafe curtains up, some people have mini blinds, and some people just said fuck it and left their windows alone. I would have gone the latter route, since I'm on the second floor, but my kitchen faces west and the sun gets mighty hot and bright in the afternoon.

Anyway, I found mini blinds for a whopping $3.99, and I threw them in my cart next to my other purchases, which included essential items (TV stand, shampoo) as well as things I really didn't need (two novels, Trident Cool Colada gum). We had an early dinner at Daphne's Greek Cafe and then headed back to Casa C so G could hang up my new blinds.

He tried to drill into the windowframe, but there was some sort of metal reinforcement and the drill wouldn't go in. (I watched with my fingers spread over my eyes, convinced that at any moment the drill bit would come loose and maim him.) Somehow, he managed to find a way around the problem, but it took about an hour to get the stupid things up, and he was standing in my sink with the blazing hot sun cooking him like a Ball Park frank.

When he was done, he wiped the sweat off his face with the proffered paper towel, and then he put together my new TV cart and hung up a plate holder for me.

Yeah, he earned a gold star and then some.

I took today off work because my new refrigerator was scheduled to be delivered between 8AM-12PM. I went straight from G's place to my new home and got to cleanin'. The place actually wasn't in bad condition, soda-splattered blinds aside, but I still wanted to give it an intensive cleaning. I cleaned the windows and the sliding glass doors, scrubbed the kitchen counters and stovetop, and scoured the tub. I was in the middle of this last task when the delivery men arrived and brought in my gorgeous new stainless steel fridge. When they left, I gleefully slapped all of my magnets on it, and then I finished the bathroom tub and hung up my new shower curtain.

By this time, it was around 10:30AM. I went home, showered, dicked around online for about an hour, and then headed out on errands.

I bought C's birthday present.

I picked up two books I had on hold at the library.

I went to Vons and bought ice cube trays, plastic cups, and wrapping paper.

I came back home and ate lunch before putting away my laundry, making dinner reservations for my birthday, and wrapping C's birthday present.

Then I took a glorious nap.

THEN I got up, had dinner, and carted six boxes and one suitcase full of stuff over to the new place. As soon as I'd dragged everything up to the apartment, I turned on the air conditioner and took off my shirt and bra. I hung up my clothes. I replaced a couple of electrical outlet faceplates because two of them were cracked. I went through a pile of boxes, writing down the contents of each one and taping it to the outside before putting it in the storage closet. I had my iPod hooked up to some cheap speakers while I did all this, and I found some things I thought I'd lost, so it wasn't quite as boring as it might have been otherwise.

Around 9:30PM, I yawned, stretched, and decided I'd had enough. I went into the bathroom to take a whiz. As I sat there, I frowned at the shower's odd setup and thought, "Just how do you turn that thing on, anyway?"

(Okay, I know, that makes me sound like Mensa in reverse, but I assure you that not all showers are easy to figure out right away. The one at Daddy-O's place is so complicated that we always have to make sure to school guests on proper usage.)

So once I'd finished my business, I knelt at the side of the tub and turned on the faucet. With a little jiggling, I managed to find the doohickey to turn on the shower...

...AND THE FUCKING THING WENT HAYWIRE.

Apparently the showerhead was not properly connected to the wall, because water sprayed everywhere. I shrieked as I frantically tried to turn it off, which was no mean feat. By the time I got the water off, I was thoroughly drenched. Water dripped from the ceiling and the walls. The toilet paper roll was ruined.

Fuming, I grabbed a towel out of the linen closet and dried myself off (good thing I hadn't put my bra and shirt back on yet), and then I cleaned the bathroom as best I could. I opened the window for ventilation, and then I got dressed and composed a nicely yet urgently worded letter to my landlady. I locked up, took out the trash, put the note through the mailslot in the office door, and returned home, where I took my second shower of the day.

Tomorrow I have to work (goddammit), which promises to be a real treat since I had to cover two other people last week, and my own work piled up in the meantime. Then I plan on taking yet another carload of shit over to the new place.

But you know what I'm going to do on Wednesday?

Absolutely. Freakin'. Nothing.

Oh, sure, I have to work as usual (goddammit), but I'm not going over to the new place at all. Instead, I plan on enjoying an hour-long, full body massage after work, and then I'm coming home and watching The Sopranos while lounging in my underwear.

Too bad Haagen Dazs doesn't make a Fudgy Valium Swirl flavor; I'd be pounding that shit down by the gallon right about now.