I do this all the time.

I make sure my days are super-productive. My calendar is full of to-do items and such. Every minute of my days are planned.

Then I crash. Being responsible and productive gets old real quick. A month or two of pure production is usually followed by a month or two of doing the minimum.

Case in point: Moving.

Immediately after getting a job, I found myself a new place to live, dealt with roommate drama, moved all my shit mostly by myself (sis and kids helped with the big things), and unpacked essentials all while beginning a new relationship, getting the pups on a regular minimum twice a day walking schedule, and absorbing/learning as many new skills as possible at the new job.

It hasn’t been easy. And you know what? I’m fucking tired.

Lately I’ve only been doing what I have to do. I’m still waking up too fucking early to walk the dogs. I still have a girlfriend (although I’m not quite sure how). And yes, I’m doing laundry and showering still. But the things related to moving? It’s all pretty much stopped.

There’s still a pile of boxes in the corner of my living room. I’m still without a couch. Art is staged on the floor below where I want them hung. And my room is basically undecorated.

Whether it’s because I don’t want to spend the money, because I get home too late to use a hammer without pissing off neighbors, or because I’d rather lay down and catch up on my Netflix …. shit ain’t getting done.

And now I kind of feel like crap. I do feel like crap. My home isn’t ok like this.

Does this mean that I’m going to get back to my productive self now? Probably not. Give me a few more days to spend my free time doing nothing.

And my girlfriend.

Most girls have purses to lose their stuff in.

I have my pockets.

I somehow managed to take my girlfriend’s keys home with me early this morning. I had no idea until she called me hours later asking me to help her think where she could’ve misplaced them.

Um, yeah. In my pockets. Sorry.

Sometimes I lose my own keys in my pockets. I feel around for them, don’t feel them, tear apart my house looking for them, then re-check my pants where they were all along.

The saddest thing is this happens pretty regularly.

I’m losing my mind. Or getting old. Most likely both.

Last week, my apartment building approved the installation of water-saving water fixtures in every unit.

The bathroom faucet – cool.

The kitchen faucet – alright.

The shower – shoot me now.

I just don’t see how it saves water. It takes me twice as long to get the shampoo and conditioner out of my hair due to the lack of water pressure BECAUSE I’M SHOWERING IN MIST.

I’m all for being environmentally friendly, but I honestly believe I end up using the same amount of water with this new showerhead, just with frustration added to the process.

I’m going to buy my own eventually. It’s just bad timing because I’m still budgeting for other important apartment items.

Couch, you win this battle.

So I have a couple more weeks to keep my composure and not rip the fucking showerhead out of the wall. We’ll get along. I am impressed by the design, though. They even tried to get fancy with it by including a massage setting.

Yeah. Massage. No water pressure.

“What is this?? A showerhead for ANTS?!”

New job.

New apartment in a new city.

New girlfriend.

All pretty much happened at the same time. I’m waiting for my life to get settled in.

The job is awesome because o get to learn a bunch of new things. Yay for working on my career!

Most of my stuff is unpacked, but I still need to buy a couch and a few other key pieces of furniture.

And I finally got myself a girlfriend after years of being single. It was time. And she’s great. She’s independent, ambitious, and smart.

Brains = Sexy