That means I have seven days to pack and clean, three days to move, and half a day to clean before I have to hand back the keys to this here apartment. (Double-counting the day on which we get the keys to our new apartment. And WHY did I not ask for Mon 28 off too? My sorry ass is going to be cleaning that day from eight to three-thirty and working for that paycheck from four to midnight!)
This apartment does not look moving-ready. This apartment looks like the aftermath of Hurricane Alex—send in the Red Cross!
My todo list has seven sections. Each section has from four to fifteen bullet points. While most are once they're done they're done, some of them will need done more than once this week. (Six of the day's bullets are four instances of "eat" and two of "feed cat", and "rest 10min for every 20min working" will appear as often as it damn well needs to, but that's totally beside the point.)
My anxiety level is already RED ALERT. My spoon level has spent a lot of time recently at DANGER DANGER, and isn't terribly far above that now. (I got my psych doc to prescribe lorazepam for as-needed over the next couple weeks, in order to calm my shit because 100% focus on calming centering breaths means nothing else gets done and less than 100% focus on etc was for days meaning being on the verge of an anxiety attack, but. And no, having other warm bodies to help—except on Sat 26, which is furniture hauling day—is not apparently an option; I keep asking.)
I need all the cheerleading I can get!