Because of nasty weather up North, I've broken up my super long drive into two days. Which is a real blessing - I couldn't get any sleep last night and I think I would've fallen asleep somewhere around Scranton, and driven off the side of I-81. Into a field of cows or something. Or off the side of a mountain. Whatever.
I have five different apartment viewings set up, or almost set up. I'm really nervous, because not only am I confronting the impending problem of finding a place to live, but I'm also meeting potential roommates. And shit, it's just hard to make a good first impression when you're nervous. Especially since I'm planning on getting entirely lost (but not in Yonkers, hah, a little Neil Simon joke there, for those of you paying attention), and getting lost just makes me frazzled. Maybe I should carry my GPS on me.
A (cute, admittedly) employee at a state rest stop was hitting on me. Getting hit on is always a source of entertainment for me. It's particularly entertaining when I look like a schlump, with smeary eyeliner (because my eyes were itchy and I was rubbing them) and poufy hair (I think I used too much product this morning) and boring travel clothes (black turtleneck, dark skinny jeans, black buckle boots). Granted, he was in coveralls. I guess it's all relative.
My birthday is on Monday, and I'm unexcited about it. I've passed all the fun birthdays. Sometimes I feel my age, but most of the time I don't. So moving up a year isn't as marvelous as it was when I was a kid. I did, however, buy a cute pair of black ankle boots to celebrate (ADORABLE) and a seriously fierce black leopard print bra (HOT) and then, a sandwich.
And now...Project Runway for awhile, then bed.
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