I hate sunburn.
6 days. It's been 6 days, and parts of me are still purple. Today I finally managed to get around work for my entire five-hour shift without lurching like a drunken sailor. Two days ago, it took me 10 minutes just to get my pants on. If things continue this way, I just might be able to get through Jazz Fest without a hitch. I guess I'll know on Friday.
Jazz Fest is my current "event to look forward to". Following that will be Bonnaroo in June, my birthday (and possibly a Black Crowes concert) in early July, and Chris's birthday/last day in Hell (er, Florida) on July 28. After that, who knows? We can't move in to our house until Aug 1. There's a possible trip to Savannah in the works for that weekend, which I hope we can swing. I've always wanted to see Savannah.
Why is it that even though every day is exactly the same length as the next (give or take a few seconds), the days leading up to any big event always seem to stretch out interminably long?
Time is an illusion. Entirely based on perception. Counting the days is simpling measuring the movement of the earth in it's travels. Movement is not time.
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