my kind of town

I'm off work today. Are you jealous? I know you are. Don't lie. You'll be even more jealous when you learn that I didn't get up til 11, after sleeping for twelve hours (thank you, Nyquil) and I've been sitting here ever since drinking coffee, eating peanut butter toast, and e-mailing all of my friends and bragging about not being at work.

I don't know what it is about me that makes me immediately want to rub my good fortune in your face. I apologize, I really do.

Anyway. I am off work because tomorrow I'm going to Chicago for the weekend. I haven't been since last January AND there have been promises made about going to Ikea so I'm pretty flipping excited.

Best of all, I will be there for St. Patrick's Day. Actually, aside from wanting to visit my friend, that was pretty much the reason I decided to go this weekend. I have spent the majority of the week talking about the trip and telling everyone I run across that they dye the river green. It was only this morning that I stopped to think about whether or not that was actually true. I mean, is this something everyone already knows? Or is it something I made up in my head and somehow came to believe was fact? This happens more often than you'd think. Luckily, my dad informed me that they do, in fact, dye the river green on St. Patty's Day and that I have not been lying to everyone all week. I'm pretty sure I got the idea from seeing The Fugitive because I vaguely remember Harrison Ford putting on a leprechaun hat and pretending to be drunk in the parade by the green river to get away from Tommy Lee Jones. And that sentence is the pretty much all the evidence you need that I get most of my knowledge from movies or TV shows.

Today, my main goal is to take pictures of some stuff I want to sell, either on eBay or Craigslist, take my camera to my parents house, and use their superfast connection to upload my photos to the Internets. Does anyone want to buy a really heavy, full size couch with a fold out bed inside? The only stipulation is, you would have to come to my apartment and pick it up yourself because it is heavier than your mom. I don't know. Really, though. It's heavy. Because it is so special. It's one of the only things in my apartment that Phoebe has never peed on. My dad said he would help me move it into my first apartment but after that it was my responsibility to get it moved. I cannot move it by myself. I don't particularly want to move it at all. This is where you come in, Internets. You buy my couch, you move my couch, you live happily ever after with my couch. Until, of course, you have to move it again. And in that case, you'll probably sell it. The circle of life continues. Thank you, Elton.