I have no tolerance these days. I suppose that happens when you don’t drink for two or three months, but still. I’m disappointed. I went to a work happy hour last night and had 4 beers over a few hours. Then I went home, ate a microwave chicken pot pie and was in bed by 10. What’s wrong with me?

Actually, I SHOULD have left by 7, come home and packed up the rest of my apartment. Did you know I was moving? I’m not going far, I have separation anxiety from my neighborhood, but needed to downsize. So I am moving a whole one half mile away (according to Yahoo! maps) to a new complex. I am excited at having a place that is 100% mine. I’ve never done that you know. I’ve always lived with a roommate or a boy, so this is a big step. Sometimes it’s a big, huge, scary step that I’m trying to look at one teeny piece at a time so I don’t get overwhelmed. I have to keep telling myself that I’m not leaving anything behind except some walls and carpet. If I look at it logically, rather than emotionally I seem to handle it better. When I’m ready to look at it as a momentous, milestone moment, I will. For now, I’m just moving my furniture a half mile to the west.