I was right. I have way too much stuff.

It's been two days since The Move and I'm still maneuvering around piles of boxes. This apartment doesn't have as much storage space as my last one. Also, the old apartment had walls made of soft horsehair plaster; this building's walls are apparently concrete with a half-inch of plaster on top. I bent three nails in five minutes and gave up on hanging anything until I get hold of a drill.

Considering that the only way to live in a small apartment is to hang everything on the walls, you can probably imagine the chaos around me right now.

The move itself was less chaotic than I had expected, though. On Risa's recommendation, I hired Gentle Giant for the move (despite the fact that Cheap Date has a better name) and I can't say enough about how good they were. Organized, efficient, friendly, professional and worth every penny.

The crew leader's mantra was No Problem. Forgot to take the mirror off the wall? No problem. Don't want to keep this piece of furniture? No problem. Didn't know how to pack that glass-front cabinet so it wouldn't break? No problem. He was like human valium. Amazing.

I was exhausted by the move anyway. By the end of the day, my contacts were furry with dust and my joints felt like they were filled with ground glass. I was not a happy camper. I snapped at my mother when she suggested we get dinner at the restaurant around the corner; how was she to know that it's one of Boston's most expensive restaurants? I felt terrible. I apologized and hugged her; we ordered dinner from a delivery service and just chilled out for a while. Can I reiterate that my mom kicks all kinds of ass?

I spent most of Friday asleep. I have a finite amount of energy, and anything beyond that is like a credit line: I have to pay for it eventually, with interest. I still feel like a sleepwalker today.

And tonight is all about hanging out with Cricket.