divine angst

For the next 48 hours or so, I’m going to be mostly incommunicado. We’re packing up our stuff, including the dishes and food, and tomorrow morning, we get to pick up a rental SUV with which to move all of it to the new place. Fun!

I’m sort of impressed with how quickly we’ve managed to get things boxed and ready, actually. We haven’t done much with our clothes or the bedroom, but the bookshelves are essentially emptied, the buffet is empty, and I am making serious progress in the kitchen. Tomorrow won’t exactly be FUN, but I think we’ll be able to knock enough of the moving thing out that we can live comfortably in an apartment mostly empty of furniture for a week. Oh yeah, didn’t I mention that? The movers don’t get our heavy and big stuff till NEXT weekend.

But it’s all good. We are making EXCELLENT progress and I am actually EXCITED about how things are going. Totally unlike the extreme panic I was in earlier this week over something as simple as PAINTING. Sigh. The brain of Kristine, she is not exactly rational.

We’ve been tivo-ing (oops, TiVo isn’t a VERB) DVRing episodes of Angel that air at 5 and 6 am every weekday. Currently, we have six or eight on deck, because this week has been a little crazy and we haven’t had time to watch them.

Well, we had six or eight, now we have two or three less, because we’re watching them as we pack. Anyway, that’s not really what this is about. This is about the disturbing fact that TNT has chosen the WORST possible sponsor for this particular show. I know the timeslot probably warrants it, but it’s just all kinds of wrong that Angel on TNT is brought to you by . . . wait for it . . .

Vagisil.

Seriously, ew. Just all kinds of ew.