Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor

So I'm packing up two years of my life. Everything that has to do with George. It's not that I want it out of my life. I just can't look at it right now.
I don't even want to be home a lot. Everything reminds me of him and I don't want that. As long as I'm out or with friends, it's all hidden away. It's a lot easier that way.

I need to get some new FChucks. Fake Chucks, if you are were unaware. You know, kind of like Frada is fake Prada (a shout out to Taylor Buerger who coined the term since you can't really omit the "ch" and sound polite). But yes. I need some more. My pink ones are on their last leg (Buh-dum-chh [think comedian cymbal hit]). They've turned a not-so-pleasant shade of extra-orange salmon. I'd like to wash them but that might ruin the feathers. I dunno. I'll give it a go, perhaps. And my rainbow ones are worn every day at work. I just need another pair to share some of the work.

If anyone wants to volunteer to give me a back massage, I will take it, gladly. All my muscles ache. Probably because I have such poor posture. And I stand all day.

I work 10 hours tomorrow. I don't even know if whoever scheduled me realizes this. I have to be at work at 6am and I'm not going to be able to relax until I get to institute at 7pm and I won't get to bed until 12ish. Aaaaauuuggh!