Someday, I’ll be dead.

I haven’t had a night to myself since last Tuesday, and it doesn’t look like the socializing and tasks will let up until next Thursday (if I can get my tattoo guy to FIX THE FRIKKIN’ COLOR ALREADY on the 8th). That’s two and a half solid weeks of spending every single night with other people. And while it’s fabulous to see friends, it’s also exhausting. My house is definitely worse for the wear. I still haven’t put away my camping gear, nor have I packed for my upcoming trip to Boston, for which I need to be at the airport in 24 hours. Between now and then, I still need to get in a full (and bound to be stressy) day at work, and take my mom out for her birthday (which I will actually be missing while I’m out of town this weekend).

Here’s the rub: If my dear pal Nova, who is soon moving to a new state, has any free evening to spend with me before she leaves? Oh yeah, I’m so there. I can rest when I’m dead.