First of all, I cannot remember the last time I met a handle of liquor that actually had a handle. This bottle blew my mind a little when I picked it up last night. But anyway.
I think I have to go back to Rhode Island this weekend. I need to meet my future boss at the restaurant, I'm guessing to talk about logistical things. I'm not looking forward to having to spend another eighty dollars on a bus ticket, although I suppose it would be productive for me to begin moving a ton of my shit out to the apartment. I'll have to pack all my suitcases and lug them with me. I wish that all this resettling business wasn't a complete and absolute hassle. But being on the bus for the second weekend in a row will give me some uninterrupted study time to look forward to, which will be a plus with all of these portfolios to pull together, the bulk of them by next Tuesday. Good times. I am already dreading the papers I have to get written, and they're all still just twinkles in my eye.
I just want to take this moment to say that I hate transitional periods. A lot.