by reckoning day, what i mean is that i am moving. moving an absurb amount of stuff in a ridiculously oversized truck. with no one's help. stepfather/former advisor (if one doesn't know the story, it's really not as scandalous and/or intriguing as it sounds... and actually, 'tis rather quite [oh dear.. that's a new mattsonism... "rather quite"... i think i shall hyphenate it in future whitterings-of-on] boring-cum-pathetic)... [[deep breath, allow me to regroup.]]

yesyes... stepfather/former advisor is driving the oversized uHaul (and paying a ricockulous amount for it, though mum has told me that i should state in clear, calm, adequately audible voice in the cab of truck upon arrival at the house: "I am sorry, Roger... I cannot afford to pay you back for this truck at the moment, but i shall." And after proclaiming such, it is mum's bestimate that Roger will mumble something-or-another and compliment it with some sort of awkward body language, both of which combined can be loosely translated as, "don't worry about it.") [[such a shame that all that was parenthetical!]]

but yes, he is driving the truck. and not lifting a goddamn finger to help me move larger items... (and really, i'm a strappin' lad... I can handle it... it's just that i don't want to scratch the woodfloors in either old or new house with largish items such as tv/stereo stand-thingy and the boxspring.).

so my day off = strenuous manual labour.

who's buying me post-move-in drinks?

ok. i must stop now. if only for the sole reason of dismantling this computer desk that becomes increasingly more broken everytime i venture homehome [mum's house] to visit.... which reminds me.... since i'm leaving this computer here....