So, lesseee…what’s been going on? I spent all day Saturday cleaning because I threw a party that night. I was intending to finish off my liquor supply before I move out at the end of April, but everyone ended up bringing something, so now I have just as much booze as before. I will have to have another party this weekend, I think. (Booze for sale! Take it off my hands, please!)

It was a good time…about ten people came, and everybody knew a few other people but nobody knew everyone, so it was sort of a mixer. I stuck to screwdrivers all night, because I had a lot of vodka to kll. I had two or three. (So, basically, three.) Also there were snacks involved. The olives stuffed with red peppers were good, as were the Cheese-Its and the visually appealing veggie plate.

I drank enough to feel excited for bedtime once people started leaving. But my crazy social fiend friend Azalea convinced me and Poppy to come out with her for more crazy fiendish stuff. We ended up at a club near Dupont, salsaing with strange men. I should not have switched to rum at that point. Things got pretty sweaty and hazy. Good thing my dance partner was big and burly or else I would have been lying on the floor.

After approximately forty-nine hours of “dancing,” Poppy found me holding onto the wall near the coat-check room. Apparently I PLEADED with her to “let me go home,” which, like, hello? I was not being held captive by anyone. What was I thinking? My brain on liquor is weird.

It was 3:30 and we went home. I love taking cabs at the end of the night. It is so nice to see the blocks whizz by and know that you will be home and snuggly in your bed ten times faster than if you had walked.

I hate nights where I drink enough to actually get drunk though. I don’t do it often, maybe once a month? But I feel really bad, almost guilty, while I do it. I know that I’ll have a headache the next day, and that I’ll spend the day eating greasy foods and feeling gross and needing to spend a few days detoxing on, like, green tea and fruit to make up for pickling my liver.

In my mind, I think of my liver as “Herbert.” It’s a good solid name, the sort of name an accountant might have, and I like to keep up hope that my liver is still solid and happy and functioning. Sure enough, I spent much of Sunday eating pizza and moaning, and making mental promises to Herbert that I would treat him better from now on. Herbert is all, “If I had a nickel every time you said that…”

I am really going to have to make it up to him this time, I can feel it. Kitten gloves, Herbert! I will treat you with kitten gloves! (Until next weekend, duh.)

So yesterday was Monday, and it was a normal work day, and ditto for today. My workdays are dead boring, you guys. I am just totally counting down the days/weeks until work is over. Every night when I get home I literally make a little X in my date book. (I once told my dad this and he groaned and called me a drama queen.)

Did I ever actually come out and tell you all why I am done with my job soon?? I think I may have glossed over that. Well, I am starting up grad school in Savannah in June. So I have four weeks and three days(!) left of work, and then I will move, and then school starts. And then I will officially have the easiest life imaginable, because I’m going to school for painting. For real. I know, it’s like unimaginably slackster. I am totally appreciative of this, don’t worry!

It is surreal to be so close to this huge change that I started thinking about almost two years ago. I have a hard time enjoying periods like these, where you’re sort of in a holding pattern, you know? Where something is going to change, and you’ve done everything you need to do on your end, you’re just sort of waiting and killing time until the big day rolls around?

I tend to get sort of bogged down in, and anxious about, logistical details (thanks Mom! genetic legacy). So trying to wrap my head around a cross-country-move-and-lifestyle-change is a little frazzling. I want to skip ahead to six weeks from now, when all the craziness is done and I am just THERE, at school.

I have lists of things to do and when to do them. A little notebook full of lists. Yes, I am that anal. Perhaps I come off as sort of charmingly freewheeling here sometimes, but it’s a facade. I AM A TOTAL ANAL DORK. (Also I have now doomed myself to like 300 search hits for “total anal” I bet.)

Oh! I discovered something tonight! The exact same girl who is in a current Lifetime movie, Mom at Sixteen, was in Law and Order SVU tonight too. As a teenager having underage sex. That’s quite a niche she’s carving out for herself. Hey, Lifetime girl! Stop bogarting those plum “Illicitly Sexy Teen” roles.

I will be very sad if she shows up a few summers from now in “American Pie 7: This time it’s lemon meringue pie!” or something. We already have one Tara Reid.