Oh dear, the date charges onward leaving a trail of heartache and nervous twitching. Yes, it is once again time to embark into the wilds and camp. And fish. And read. And play Harvest Moon. It wouldn’t be so bad if, for example, I actually wanted to spend days outside in the bright, with the bugs and dirt. But I don’t- and trust me- that’s sad. Alright, I leave in two days and need some ideas in how to keep sane (beyond playing Harvest Moon, which is quite the opposite of sane for the obsessive tendencies it brings out). Mom is snappish, Aunt has decided to go into a technologic panic, Nannie is disapproving in our lack of preparation this year, and Pop-pop is telling the same seven stories and three jokes I could dictate verbatim when I was eight.

Gosh, I need to get Mars’s oil changed, cleaned and vacuumed. I need to be up tomorrow at bright:thrity to load the camping gear into Pop-pop’s beast of a truck. I need to call work. I need to do massive amounts of laundry. I need to clean my room (alright, maybe not need, but sorta-possibly-might-have-to in order to locate everything needed to this ‘vacation’) and program my iRiver and find batteries and headphones and happy blue pills. I need to respond to a wedding invitation (which I managed to miss the bride-to-be's girl's-thing-thingy, also known as a Bridal Shower) before the RSVP deadline comes and I'm SOL. I need to call some wacked-out campus security number on account of an idiot losing a laptop with my blasted social-security number and all manner of other assorted identification information (this is why we’re supposed to be using only our Z-Number, morons!) and switch banking accounts or move all my money under a mattress I wont see in weeks! *wails*

Thusday. I leave Thursday afternoon.

This isn't going to be fun; pass the aspirin.

Edit (because I'm to lazy to hit the post button, yeah, I know) 1:16 Wednesday:
A rec of sorts. Potter Puppet Pals, because I've apparently degraded to a five year old boy...