(no subject)

I now own a drill. For some reason, I am incredibly pleased by this. I kept wanting to drill random holes in the walls JUST BECAUSE I CAN! As time goes on, my inner butch dyke asserts herself. Halp.

I'm taking an hour or so to check e-mail and shit before I go back and continue cleaning. Most of my stuff is now unpacked, so it's just a matter of re-packing some of the stuff into logical boxes (instead of packing the pots and pans with my computer WTF mother?) and giving everything its place, and then actual proper cleaning (including the carpets, which are actually fairly disgusting and need a good deep cleaning) and minor things like hanging up pictures and sorting my books and other papers instead of just sticking them on the shelves in the boxroom.

*deep breath*

It's less than it sounds like, I swear. <g> There's also some things like a TV and a DVD player I need to buy, but that's secondary.

Signs that the stress is no longer quite as bad as it was: my shoulder no longer feels like it's going to fall off, and my face is finally clearing up again, after four weeks of looking like the goddamn moonscape. And my appetite is back. Today's dinner: spicy bean burgers and oven chips. I'm surprised I managed to not blow myself up with the gas cooker and oven. (I'm used to electric.)

And now, back to the grindstone with me, I think.