Margaritas, packing, and tooth pulling

Drinking margaritas while trying to focus on packing up a bedroom is a daunting task- kind of like pulling teeth. Just kidding. These three things have nothing in common for this story.

I spent Friday night with a bunch of friends, just relaxing after the semester. We all went out for Italian food at a local restaurant, then headed back to AB's house for margaritas and dancing. And other slightly inappropriate but hilarious activities. I'll just say that I haven't worked those muscles in a while! But it was great fun to be able to kick back and have a good time with friends without having to worry about studying. I had almost forgotten what it was like to have a social life...

I then spent all day Saturday packing, and can only come to one conclusion: I have WAY TOO MUCH crap. How is it possible to pack so much stuff into one room? It's not even like I contributed anything to the house, so I only have what is in my room. Boxes are stacked three high, and I kept finding shoes in random places. I can't be sure how one got on top of my closet shelf. A mystery to be sure. But at any rate, I've got most everything together and will be moving next week to my new apartment. After I spend a week at my parents' house (and their pool!).

Speaking of home, I am laying on the couch right now with a large bowl of jello, glass of ginger ale, and a decent sized prescription of vicodin. I had a flare up with fibromyalgia, and popped over to the nearest ED to get myself some happy pills. Actually, I had my bottom two wisdom teeth pulled this morning, and I'm not feeling too happy. I do have vicodin, but I wouldn't classify them as happy pills. They are more like reduce-your-pain-but-make-you-constipated pills, and no one is happy when they can't poo. I can feel my face swelling and my cheeks bruising. I can't eat anything except jello and milkshakes, when all I want is steak with a side of steak. At any rate, this is not a fun way to start my first week of summer. Oh well. At least I get to lay around for three days with an excuse.

And on that note, I'm going to bed. I hope I don't looked like a chipmunk tomorrow, but I wouldn't bet on it.