I tried so hard to be good last night. Trip and I went to Lee's for comics after work, and then had a virtuously quick dinner at Thai City. Then I went home and ... well. I was supposed to start working. Instead I read a little of Moving Mars and made my Indigo Girls/October Project tape. And read some more. And lay about on my bed trying to summon energy.

Eventually I bestirred myself enough to phone Jim and make arrangements for him to pick up my cat Sunday night and take her over to his & Czr's place, where she will hide in terror from the extant cat, Amoeba. I have to run by his place today to drop off my keys before I drive to LA.

At that point I was already moving, so it wasn't too hard to go over to Marith's and get several boxes of Earl-belongings to take to LA with me. First, though, we talked for forty-five minutes. I'm incredibly weak-willed, and being nervous about the LaRP didn't really help. I babbled at great length about why I might or might not have a good time, and Marith looked extremely patient, which was kind of her.

As soon as I got back to my apartment Angie came by to loan me a shirt and tell me her plans for her hair. Then Trip came by, drawn by the various commotion underneath his window, and more conversation went on until finally everyone scattered and I was left with my various food items to pack up, plus packing to do for the LaRP and packing to do for the thirty-six hours I'll be unable to access my apartment. It was 2230, to my great dismay.

I got a fair amount of food put into containers and moved to the trunk of my car, where it can safely sit until I can put it back into my kitchen on Tuesday night. I completely filled by only duffle bag with costuming for this weekend. It was Christine Lavin's turn in the taping scheme, so I was getting deeply into a bouncy rhythm of packing up all my perishable possessions -- and the phone rang.

It was Earl, of course, wanting to make sure that I understood his directions for getting to his apartment. He also said, "I knew that by now you'd be stressed by the amount of work you had left to do, so I thought I'd phone you and listen to you rant at me until you destressed."

We talked for about thirty minutes. By the end of it I was indeed no longer stressed. Unfortunately, this meant I could tell just how worn out I was, which led to a sudden collapsing into bed, where I slept until about twenty minutes ago. I'd planned to go work a half-day, but between the amount of work I have left to do (some more food to pack, some more bathroom-things to pack, not to mention I still haven't packed a bag of non-costuming things for this weekend, nor have I packed normal clothing for Monday and Tuesday) and the way I feel (sniffly, headachey, tired) I called in sick.

Bad Cera. Bad bad bad Cera. But there you have it.