[Don’t believe everything that you breathe]
We canned the yard sale idea. The Almighty Forecast said it was going to rain/snow today, but it hasn't yet. We were duped. Also, we didn't really have any tables or tarps or other yard sale necessities. So we ended up donating five giant garbage bags and one big box of clothing and knicknacks to the Goodwill. And last night I bundled up four more bags of stuff. We also have to take the dining room table and the broke-ass chair Monday when we get the U-Haul. Somebody is going to hit the mother lode when the go to the Goodwill and find all kinds of crappy unopened promo CDs (Daryl Worley! The New Pornographers! Freax!) from when I was [flash] editor.

So Beck's new album was accidentally leaked online a week or two ago and I missed it. Now it's nowhere to be found. Word has it that it's a return to a younger, more footloose Beck, minus many of those random throwaway lyrics we all know and love and use for blog post titles.

Tamara and her boyfriend didn't end up coming over last night. He had a root canal yesterday or something, which I imagine might make you a little unwilling to socialize. So Phil and spent the night packing and cleaning. The living room looks like a warehouse. There are bags of crap out on the balcony. We tried to envision how we would arrange the rooms, but we kept giving up because we don't really know the measurements of any of our furniture and we – having seen the apartment in person only once, and then just a model and not our actual apartment – can't really remember how the damn place is laid out. We have a floor plan on paper, but it's just not really the same.

I think Amber and I will drive up early Monday and leave the actual physical moving to Billy and Phil, since I have to be at the CA to get directions for my drug test at 3 p.m. I guess we'll go super early (8? 9 a.m.?) and drop off the keys to Havenwood, drop off the cable internet box at Comcast, drive to Memphis, swing by the new apartment, sign my part of the paperwork, get my key, drop off the ferrets in the apartment (they can hang out in their cage 'til the boys get there), look around to make sure we're getting what we signed up for, then speed off to the paper office in plenty of time to pee in a cup. Then I guess we'll come back and help finish moving stuff in, if Phil and Bill have arrived. Amber and Billy will spend the night, and we'll drive them back to the 'Boro Tuesday. The only thing that could possibly throw a wrench in the gears is if I don't get off this computer and clean out my filthy car. Right now.

In a minute.

It occurred to me the other day that I didn't even make an obligatory New Year's resolution this year. But as long as seismic changes are occurring in my life, I might as well tack on some challenges to tackle as part of my new routine.

+ Become more of a morning person, and by that I mean get up by 9 a.m. every day. You'd think that wouldn't be a big deal, but I'm telling you, my internal clock needs a major, forceful re-winding. I went to bed at 11 last night, thinking I would naturally get up at 8 or 9 this morning. I got up at 11, but only because Phil was stumbling out of bed and into his work clothes and out the door to go to Roly Poly. Who naturally sleeps for 12 hours? I'll tell you who: teenagers and depressed people. I am neither. Just lazy. So this has got to change, especially since I will be working nights and will have to do much of my living before work, instead of after. I worked the 4-12 shift in Birmingham this summer and the days I coaxed myself out of bed by 8 or 9 were the most productive. After all, you can't run errands at 1 in the morning. Well, not effectively, anyway.

+ Cliche time! I want to work out. I really do. No I don't. I hate it. But I need to. I get no exercise and I don't want to have diabetes and heart failure and obesity and all that other stuff I see my entire family struggling with right now. I've already gained too much weight during college. I've always been a little large, but it was an athletic large. Now I'm just unhealthy large, and I don't want to be unhealthy. Even if I just walk for a bit each day, I need to get moving. I chose a stationary career (my ass will be planted at a computer desk for the next 35 years), so I have to make up for my lack of movement. I think this will also help my energy level, which is really low, as well as my aforementioned terrible sleep patterns.

+ Yet another cliche. I want to eat better, and move away from eating red meat and pork. I have toyed with the idea of going vegeterian (Amber did last year and has adjusted really well; Jimmy is trying it out right now), but there are several problems I would have to overcome: I have an intensely loving relationship with dairy and chicken, and am not sure I could ever give either up. Also, I don't really like vegetables. See how this is a problem? But I've noticed as I get older, my food tastes are changing. Perhaps in another five years I will like mashed potatoes, cooked carrots, and beans. Anyway, I need to seriously consider what all the shit I eat is doing to my body, which is riddled with cancer-prone genes.

+ Relatedly, I need to learn how to cook. For survival. When armageddon comes, who will sautee the onions?

+ Paint more. And better. Ditto for writing. LESS TV! Even if it sort of rules, like the new Surreal Life.

There will be more. But now I need to shower and go to Hobby Lobby to finally spend the gift card Amber gave me. And then I'll go spelunking in my car to find year-old treasures (Coke cans, old newspapers, gum wrappers) to throw out. If only all Saturdays were this promising.